The Pteam and the Sorcerer's Stone
by KibaLover2211
Summary: So I started writing this story with the thought of adding some new characters. So, what if Harry had a lifelong friend that experienced everything he did, from start to finish? And it was a girl! Come in and read of the P-Team, the famous duo at Hogwarts
1. The Duo Who Lived

**AN: Hey guys, if you've clicked on this story, I hope it's caught your interest. I hope you enjoy it and I appreciate any sort of comment, be them good or back. Anyway, I own nothing of the original Harry Potter series be it plot or characters already in there. The original plot and characters belong to J.K. Rowling and the Scholastic Press.**

**Chapter One**

**The Duo Who Lived**

I don't remember much of my past and the stuff I do remember is very vague, like the faces of my parents, who passed away in a car crash when I was just a little over a year old, along with their best friends and the parents of my life-long friend, Harry Potter. The most ponet point I can remember is a couple of bright flashes of green light. At that time, after those green lights, I blanked out and only awoke again when I heard a loud rumbling sound surrounding me.

I remember blinking my eyes open, seeing the dark velvet sky gleaming with stars, feeling something holding me as I was cradled against a large body. The blanket I was wrapped in was warm and soft, covering almost my whole body except for my face, which was cooled by the nighttime breezes gently blowing the thick dirty blond hair from my hazel brown eyes. I wiggled in my blanket, managing to free one of my hands and I flexed my small fingers, which glowed a pale blue in the moonlight. I couldn't speak yet as I was still learning, but I did recognize the small bundle laying next to me, a dusting of black hair peeking out of the blanket. I reached over and gently grasped the other blanket in my hand. The baby moved at my touch and I moved slightly closer, nuzzling into the other blanket and closing my eyes again.

The feeling of slowing and then of someone moving made me open my eyes again and I moved my head. Above us was a giant man with long tangles of bushy black hair and a beard that hid most of his face, with eyes so black they looked like twinkling beetles.

"Hagrid," A voice just out of range of my sight said and I tried to turn my head to get a look. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," the giant said as I felt him climb off something. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got 'em out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She was already asleep and he fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol. I think Cheyenne just woke up, though."

A tall, thin and very old man with silvery hair and a beard and a rather severe-looking woman wearing square glasses and with black hair drawn back into a tight bun bent forward over us. They gazed at us, seeing, under the tufts of jet-black and dirty blond hair over our foreheads, two curiously shaped cuts, like lightning bolts.

"Is that where -?" The woman whispered.

"Yes," The old man said. "They'll have those scars forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself about my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give them here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

The man took Harry and myself into his arms and turned toward a dark house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to them, sir?" The giant asked. He bent his great, shaggy head over the two of us and gave us each a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. I wiggled, giving a small whimper as I tried to move away. Then, he suddenly let out a howl like a wounded dog. I jumped and the old man quickly rocked me to calm me before I could start crying.

"Shhh!" The woman hissed, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," The giant sobbed, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lilly, James, Kristen an' Mark dead - an' poor little Harry and Cheyenne off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or, we'll be found," The woman whispered. I felt the man step over something and make his way to the front door. He laid Harry and I gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets and then walked away. I moved my head, looking for him, feeling a sense of lonliness settle over me. A cry bubbled in my throat, but I didn't dare cry out as I nuzzled closer to my friend.

A breeze ruffled the blankets and I could hear the rustle of leaves in the air. I looked up into the inky sky before closing my eyes to sleep. I felt Harry roll over and heard the crinkle of paper as he grasped the letter in his fist just a second before I fell back into a peaceful sleep, neither of us knowing we were special, not knowing that we were famous, not knowing we would be woken in a few hours' time by our aunt, Petunia Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, not that we would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by our cousin Dudley. . . .We couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power - the duo who lived!"


	2. The Vanishing Glass

**Chapter Two**

**The Vanishing Glass**

Nearly ten years have passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find Harry and I on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Uncle Vernon had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets - but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sigh at all that another boy and a girl lived in the house, too.

Yet Harry Potter, and I, Cheyenne Power, were still here, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Our Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

I jerked awake with a start. I heard her rap smartly on the door again.

"Up!" She screeched. I could hear her walking downstairs and go into the kitchen. The sounds of food being cooked on the stove downstairs carried up to the second floor along with the delicious smells. I rolled onto my stomach and tried to remember the dream I'd been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. I had a funny feeling I'd had the same dream before.

Aunt Petunia was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," I said.

"Good, now hurry and get dressed. I want you and the boy to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

I inwardly groaned, but said I'd hurry and heard her go back downstairs once more.

Dudley's birthday - how could I have forgotten? I got carefully out of bed, being mindful of the cramped closet space as I stretched and put my glasses on. I dressed in an oversized t-shirt and some large jeans before pulling on a pair of socks. I was careful of spiders since I was afraid of them and there were usually a lot of them in the upstairs closet where I slept.

When I was dressed I stepped out of the closet into the bright hallway and closed the door behind me. I stretched once more in the generous space before making my way downstairs and into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to me as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise - unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bags were Harry and I, but he couldn't often catch us. Neither Harry nor I looked it, but we were very fast.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard and coat closet, but both Harry and I had always been small and skinny for our ages. We both looked even smaller and skinner than we really were because all we had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than the two of us combined! Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, untidy jet-black hair, and bright green eyes. I was about a foot taller than he was with a slightly chubbier face, long limbs, neat, wavy dark brown hair that curled at the ends and pretty hazel brown eyes. We both wore glasses, his round wire rimmed held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. My glasses were more rectangular and had small bits of Scotch tape on them from when Dudley beat me up and smashed them on the ground. The only thing Harry and I liked about our own appearances was the very thin scars on our foreheads that were shaped like bolts of lightning. We had had them as long as we could remember, and the first question we could ever remember asking our Aunt Petunia was how we had gotten them.

"In the car crash when both your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions - that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon and I was pulling clean plates from the cabinets.

"Comb your hair!" he barked at Harry, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in our class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way - all over the place.

I was helping Harry fry eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel - Harry and I often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry and I put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," He said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under his big one from Mommy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven then," Dudley said, going red in the face. Harry and I, both of us sensing a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, did what we could to save our breakfast. I pulled my plate onto my lap while Harry began to wolf down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty. . .thirty. . ."

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," Aunt Petunia said.

"Oh," Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair as I rolled my eyes.

"Slow down Harry, it's safe and you could give yourself a stomach ache." I said to Harry as the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry, Uncle Vernon and I watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in my and Harry's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but my and Harry's hearts gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry and I were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. We both hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made us look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" Aunt Petunia said, looking furiuosly at the two of us as though we'd planned this. Harry and I looked at each other, knowing we ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when we reminded ourselves it would be a whole year before we had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them both."

The Dursleys often spoke about the two of us like this, as though we weren't there - or rather, as though we were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," Aunt Petunia snapped.

"You could just leave us here," Harry and I put in hopefully (we'd be able to watch what we wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer.)

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"We won't blow up the house," We said, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," Aunt Petunia said slowly, ". . . and leave them in the car. . . ."

"That car's new, they're not sitting in it alone. . . ."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying - it had been years since he'd really cried - but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I. . .don't. . .want. . .them. . .t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always sp-spoil everything!" He shot Harry and I a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang - "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" Aunt Petunia said frantically - and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once as Piers shot Harry and I a nasty look and we glared at him.

Half an hour later, Harry and I, neither of us believing our luck, were sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in either of our lifes. Our aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with us, but before we'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken both Harry and I aside.

"I'm warning you," he said, putting his large purple face right up close to ours, "I'm warning you both now - any funny business, anything at all - and you'll both be in those closets from now until Christmas."

"We're not going to do anything," Harry and I said together, "honestly. . ."

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe us. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and I and it was just no good telling the Dursleys we didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming home from the barbers and looking as though he'd never gone, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who I spent a sleepless night with, trying to comfort him as he imagined how school would go the next day. We were already laughed at for our baggy clothes and taped glasses. The next morning, however, I had left him to go change for school, only to come back downstairs to find his hair was exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He'd been locked in his cupboard for that, even though he tried to explain that he couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's, which had been brown with orange puff balls, but the harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.

On the other hand, we'd both gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing us as usual when, we much to our surprise as anyone else's, there we were sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from our headmistress telling them Harry and I had been climbing school buildings. But all we'd tried to do, as we tried to explain this as we were locked into our closet and cupboard, was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. We both supposed that the wind must have caught us in mid-jump.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, our cupboard, closet, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry and I, the council, Harry and I, the bank, and Harry and I were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

". . .roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook us.

"We had a dream about a motorcycle," Harry and I said together, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at the two of us, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"We know they don't," Harry and I said. "It was only a dream."

But we wished we hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than our asking questions, it was our talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was a dream or even a cartoon - they seemed to think we might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van has asked Harry and I what we wanted before they could hurry us away, they bought us a cheap lemon ice pop each. They weren't bad, either, we thought, licking them as we watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

Harry and I had the best morning we'd had in a long time. We were careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting us. We ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harry and I were allowed to finish the first.

We both felt, afterward, that we should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch we went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can - but at the moment it didn't look at the mood. In face, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon tapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry and I moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. We wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself - no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard or closet for bedrooms, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least we got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry's.

It winked!

Harry and I stared. Then we looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. We looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave the two of us a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time."

"We know," We murmured through the glass, through we weren't sure the snake could hear us. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" We asked.

The snake habbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry and I peered at it.

Boa Constrictor. Brazil.

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sigh again and we read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, we see - so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind us made all three of us jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward us as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you two," he said, punching Harry in the ribs as Piers shoved me roughly out of the way. Both of us caught by surprise, we fell hard on the concrete floor. Pain flashed through my funny bone and I gritted my teeth, glaring up at the two boys. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened - one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry and I sat up and gasped together; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

The snake stopped and looked at the two of us, saying in a low, hissing voice, "Brazil, here I come. . . . Thanksss, amigo, to you and your mate." He looked at me at that, hissed in laughter, then slithered away. My face heated up and I looked toward Harry to see he was blushing furiously, too.

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry and I had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time we were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling us how it had nearly bitten his leg off, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry and I at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry and Cheyenne were talking to it, weren't you, Harry, Cheyenne?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on the two of us. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go - cupboards - stay - no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

I sat, waiting in my closet, much later, checking the light up watch that I kept hidden under my pathetic excuse for a matress and waiting for the Dursleys to fall asleep before I dared sneak out to go downstairs and get something to eat with Harry. The watch read out 11: 30 PM, and I could hear Uncle Vernon snoring in his room down the hall. One good thing about living in the upstairs closet was that I knew when the perfect time was to sneak out for food. Once I was sure the Dursleys were asleep, I hid the watch again and snuck stealthly from my closet and down the stairs, avoiding the second to last step as I knew it creaked.

I went to Harry's cupboard and gently knocked, "Harry, it's Cheyenne. Come on, we can get some food now." I whispered. I heard some rustling before the door gently opened. We crept into the kitchen and made ourselves some sandwiches, grabbed some chips and went back into Harry's cupboard to eat. We talked silently about our lifes here, consoling each other.

We'd lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as either of us could remember, ever since we'd been babies and both our parents had died in that car crash. Sometimes, when we strained our memories during long hours confinded in our separate 'bedrooms', we came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain in our foreheads. This, we supposed, was the crash, though we couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. Neither of us could remember our parents very well. Our aunt and uncle never spoke about any of them, and of course we were forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house either.

When we had been younger, Harry and I had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take us away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were our only family, even if they weren't biologically related to me. Yet sometimes we thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know us. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to us once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry and I furiously if we knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed us out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at us once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken our hands in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry or I tried to get a closer look.

At school, Harry and I had no one else but each other. Everyone knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power in their baggy old clothes and broken glasses and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang.


	3. The Letters From No One

**Chapter Three**

**The Letters from No One**

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry and I our longest-ever punishment. By the time we were allowed out of our cupboard and closet again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplance, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Both of us were glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry and Cheyenne Hunting.

This was why Harry and I spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where we could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came we would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in our lifes, we wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry and I, on the other hand, were going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry and I. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," Harry said. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick." Then he ran before Dudley could work out what he'd said as I burst out laughing and ran after him.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry and I at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond as them as before. She let the two of us watch television and gave us each a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for us in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry wasn't saying anything and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia turned glaring eyes on me to say something in Harry's stead and I inwardly sighed as I marked my page in the book I was reading, closed it, then turned to Dudley. I forced as convincing a smile as I could without hurting myself, then spoke.

"Wow Dudley, you look so handsome and sofisticated. You'll really have all the girls begging for your attention at that school, you. . .you big old champ you." I said, forcing myself to say the words so I wouldn't get in trouble. Dudley grinned stupidly at my comments and I could see. . .was he blushing? Over his shoulder, I could just see the whispers of smiles on Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's faces and I knew they liked my comment.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry and I went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. We went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" we asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if we dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniforms," she said.

We looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," we said. "We didn't realize they had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," Aunt Petunia snapped. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you both. They'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

We both seriously doubted it, but thought it best not to argue. We sat down at the table and tried not to think about how we were going to look on our first day at Stonewall High - like we were wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from my and Harry's new uniforms. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

We heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

I sighed with annoyance and got up to get the mail myself as Uncle Vernon said, "Poke him with your Smelting Stick, Dudley."

I made my way down the short hallway to the front door. Four things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that look like a bill, and - one letter each for Harry and myself.

I picked them up and stared at them, my heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in our whole lifes, had written to either Harry nor I. Who would? We had no friends, no other relatives - we didn't belong to the library, so we'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, two letters, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

and

Miss C. Power

The Upstairs Closet

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Both envelopes were thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the adresses were written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning both envelopes over, my hands trembling, I saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Chey?" Harry's soft voice made me jump and I whirled around to see him looking at me with worried eyes, "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, I-I. . .we have. . .letters. . ." I said, handing his over. He looked puzzled for a moment and took the letter, looking at it. His eyes widened and he looked it over like I had done.

"Hurry up!" Uncle Vernon shouted from the kitchen. "What are you two doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry and I went back to the kitchen, still clutching our letters. We handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelopes together.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. . ."

"Dad!" Dudley said suddenly. "Dad, Harry and Cheyenne've both got something!"

Harry and I were on the point of unfolding our letters, which were both written on the same heavy parchment as the envelopes, when they were both jerked sharply out of our hands by Uncle Vernon.

"Those're ours!" Harry said, trying to snatch them back.

"Yeah and it's incredibly rude to take someone else's letters and read them!" I said, slamming my hands on the table and shooting back to my feet.

"Who'd be writing to you two?" Uncle Vernon sneered, ignoring my outburst. He shook Harry's letter open with one hand and glanced at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was a grayish white old porridge color.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab one of the letters to read it, but Uncle Vernon held them both high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took Harry's curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness - Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, Dudley and I were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to bring ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smeling stick.

"I want to read those letters," he said loudly.

"We want to read them," Harry and I said furiously, "as they're ours."

"Get out, all of you," Uncle Vernon croaked, stuffing the letters back inside their envelopes.

Harry didn't move. Aunt Petunia took my upper arm and pushed me out the kitchen door.

"WE WANT OUR LETTERS!" he shouted.

"Let me see it!" Dudley demanded.

"OUT!" Uncle Vernon roared. He took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them out into the hall with me, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole. Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

He told us they were talking about the letters, asking how the people who sent them how they knew where he and I slept, asking if they were watching the house. He said Uncle Vernon said they might be spying or following us. Aunt Petunia asked if they should write them back and Uncle Vernon said we'd just ignore them and maybe they wouldn't write back. Then, we heard him shout.

"I'm not having two of them in this house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took them in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

The evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon called me downstairs and did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard with me.

"Where're our letters?" Harry asked the moment I'd sat down and Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to us?"

"No one. They were addressed to you both by mistake," Uncle Vernon said shortly. "I have burned them."

"It was not a mistake," I snapped angrily before Harry could say anything. "they had out cupboard and closet it on them."

"SILENCE!" Uncle Vernon yelled, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. I squeaked and moved closer to Harry, who wrapped a reassuing arm around me. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er - yes, Harry. . .Cheyenne - about your cupboard and closet. Your aunt and I have been thinking. . .you're both really getting a bit big for them. . .we think it might be nice if you both moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" We asked.

"Don't ask questions!" He snapped. "Take your stuff into that bedroom, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took both Harry and I one trip each to move everything we owned from our cupboard and closet to this room. We sat down on each of the beds and stared around ourselves. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neightbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bend because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. Well, it looked like there was at least something in here that I could look at and entertain myself.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't want them in there. . .I need that room. . . make them get out. . . ."

Harry and I sighed together and reclined back on our new beds. Yesterday we'd have given anything to be up here. Today we'd rather be back in our cupboard and closet with our letters than up here without them.

The next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry and I were thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wished we'd opened our letters in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to both Harry and I, made Dudley go and get it. We heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There're two more of them! Mr. H. Potter and Miss C. Power, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. I went to go after, but Aunt Petunia caught my arm and kept me there as we watched from the kitchen doorway. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letters from him, which looked difficult because Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which it looked as though everyone had gotten hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with my and Harry's letters clutched in his hand.

"Both of you go to your cupboard - I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry and I. "Dudley - go - just go."

I watched Harry walked round and round our new room. Someone knew we had moved out of our cupboard and closet and they seemed to know we hadn't received our first letters. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time, we'd make sure they didn't fail. We had a plan.

Our repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry quickly turned it off and we dressed in silence, able to have our own privacy since Aunt Petunia had set up a cloths line with a blanket to use when we were getting dressed. We couldn't wake the Dursleys. We stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

We were going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Our hearts hammered in unison as we crept across the dark hall toward the front door -

"AAAAARRRGH!"

Harry leapt into the air, bumping into me and we tumbled to the floor together. He said he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat - something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to our horror we realized that the big, squashy something had been our uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry and I didn't do exactly what we'd been trying to do. He shouted at us for about half an hour and then told Harry to go and make a cup of tea. I watched Harry shuffle miserably off into the kitchen while I crouched on the floor with Uncle Vernon, who was grumbling under his breath. The click of the mail slot sounded and I watched six letters, three for Harry and I each, fall into his lap.

"I want -" Harry began as I dove for the letters, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before our eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," He explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails. "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," Uncle Vernon said, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry and I, each. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed 'Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four more letters to Harry and I found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that our very confused milkman had handed to Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you two this badly?" Dudley asked Harry and I in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looked tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded us cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today -"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry and I leapt into the air trying to catch at least one -

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized both Harry and I around the waists and threw us into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. We could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," Uncle Vernon said, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later we had wrenched our way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding us up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

We drove. And we drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where we were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake 'em off. . .shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

We didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he's wanted to see, and he's never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley, Harry and I shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry and I stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill together, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering. . . .

We ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. We had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to our table.

" 'Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter or Miss C. Power? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up one of each letter so we could read the green ink address of the one on top:

Harry and I made a grab for the letters but Uncle Vernon knocked our hands out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take them," Uncle Vernon said, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of us knew. He drove us into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car and off we went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked us all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

Monday. That reminded Harry and I of something. If it was Monday - and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television - then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry's eleventh birthday. I'd comepletely forgotten, what with the caos of someone trying to send us our letters. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten my best friend's birthday! His birthdays weren't usually fun anyways - last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" Uncle Vernon said gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to us, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below us.

"I've already got us some rations," Uncle Vernon said, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down our necks and a chilly wing whipped our faces. After what seemed like hours we reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wood walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and five bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoke and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching us here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry and I privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer either of us up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around us. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten cofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry and I were left to find the softest bit of floor we could and curl up together under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Neither Harry nor I could sleep. We shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, our stomachs rumbling together in hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told the two of us that Harry'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. We lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. We heard something creak outside. We hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although we might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when we got back that we'd be able to steal one of each somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds. . . twenty. . .ten. . .nine - maybe we'd wake up Dudley just to annoy him - three. . .two. . .one. . .

BOOM!

The whole shack shivered and Harry and I sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.


	4. The Keeper of the Keys

**Chapter Four**

**The Keeper of the Keys**

BOOM! They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he asked stupidly.

There was a crash behind us and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now we knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with us.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you - I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then -

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. Harry grabbed me and we quickly scrambled to our feet and moved back.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. He looked oddly familiar with his face almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but we could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at us all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey. . . ."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," the stranger said.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry and Cheyenne!" the giant said.

Harry and I looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw yeh two, you were only babies," he said. "Harry, yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes. And Cheyenne, yeh're as beautiful as your mother, but you have your father's hair and gentle eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," the giant said; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway - Harry," the giant said, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate chake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.

Harry and I looked up at the giant. I knew he wanted to say thank you, but it looked as though the words got lost on their way. Instead, he said, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook my and Harry's whole arms.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; we couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry and I felt the warmth wash over us as though we'd just sunk into a hot bath.

Hagrid sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon spoke sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry and I, both of us so hungry neither of us had ever tasted anything so wonderful, and I never really liked sausages. But we still couldn't take our eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, we said, "We're sorry, but we still don't really know who you are."

"You look familiar. . .though. . ." I added, narrowing my eyes at him.

Hagrid took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts - yeh'll both know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er - no," Harry admitted.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," I said quickly.

"Sorry?" Hagrid barked, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew neither of yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did neither of yeh never wonder where both yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" Harry and I asked.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall. I took Harry's hand and moved him back quickly.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that these two - this boy and girl! - knows nothin' abou' - about ANYTHING?"

Harry and I glanced at each other, thinking this was going a bit far. We had been to school, after all, and our marks weren't bad.

"We know some things," we said. "We can, you know, do math and stuff."

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Both yer parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at both Harry and I.

"But yeh must know about yer moms and dads," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're both famous."

"What? Our - our moms and dads weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know. . .yeh don' know. . . " Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing both of us with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell them anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer them? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from them all these years?"

"Kept what from us?" Harry and I said eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" Uncle Vernon yelled in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," Hagrid said. "Harry -yer a wizard. Cheyenne - yer a witch."

"Eh?" I said, surprised.

Silence followed. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"We're what?" Harry gasped.

"A wizard and witch, o' course," Hagrid said, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a couple o' thumpin' good'uns, I'd say, once yeh've both been trained up a bit. With mums an' dads like yours, what else would yeh two be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh both read yer letters."

Harry and I stretched out our hands at last to take the yellowish envelopes, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter and Miss C. Power, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. We pulled out the letters and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFY AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First class, Grand Sorc.,Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Power,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted

at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please

find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no

later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded like fireworks in my mind and I felt dizzy with trying to decide which to ask first. Harry spoke after a few moments, "What do they mean, they await our owl?" he asked.

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," Hagrid said, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry and I could read upside down"

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry and Cheyenne their letters.

Taking them to buy their things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, give it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

"Eh...?" I said again, noticing Harry's mouth was open. I closed it for him, "You'll catch flies, Harry..." I joked weakly. His smile was faint.

"Where was I?" Hagrid said, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"They're not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop 'em." he said.

"A what?" Harry and I asked, interested.

"A Muggle," Hagrid said, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's both your bad luck you two grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," Uncle Vernon said, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard and witch indeed!"

"You knew?" Harry said as I frowned. "You knew we're a - a witch and a wizard?"

"Knew!" Aunt Petunia shrieked suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could neither of you be, my dratted sister and her best friend being what they were? Oh, they got their letters just like that and disappeared off to that - that school - and came home every vacation with their pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw them for what they were - freaks! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lilly and Kristen this and Lilly and Kristen that, they were so proud of having a couple of witches in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met those Potter and Power's at school and they all left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd both be just the same, just as strange, just as - as - abnormal - and then, if you please, they went and got themselves blown up and we got landed with you two!"

The color had drained from both my and Harry's faces. As soon as we found our voices we said, "Blown up? You told us they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" Hagrid roared, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lilly an' James Potter an' Mark an' Kristen Power? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows both their names!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry and I asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much neither of yeh knew. Ah, Harry...Cheyenne, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh - but someones gotta - yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw the Dursleys a dirty look.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh - mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it. . ."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows -"

"Who?"

"Well - I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not? It's just a name,"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, yeh two, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went. . .bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was. . ."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested gently.

"Nah - can't spell it. All right - Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, very dark days. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches. . .terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course some stood up to him - an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwart. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway."

"Now, yer mums an' dads were as good witches and wizards as I ever knew. James was Head boy an' Kristen was Head girl in their day! An' outside that they was great! Yer mothers were always top in the class and yer fathers were great at Quidditch, too! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before. . .probably knew they were all too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side."

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em. . .maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village were you was all living, on Halloween ten tears ago. You were both just one year olds. He came ter yer house an' - an' -"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad - knew yer mums an' dads, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find - anway. . ."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you both, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you two got them marks on ter foreheads? Those are no ordinary cuts. Those what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh - took care of yer mums an' dad an' yer shared house, even - but it didn't work on yeh two, an' that's why yer both famous, Harry, Cheyenne. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you both, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts - an' you both were only babies, an' you lived."

Something very painful flashed through my mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, I saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than I'd ever remembered it before - and I remembered something else, for the first time in my life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching us sadly. I slowly sank to the floor next to the sofa, tears brimming in my eyes.

"Took yeh both from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot. . ."

"Load of old tosh," Uncle Vernon said. Harry and I jumped; we had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have gotten back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now you both listen here," he snarled, grabbing my arm and yanking me backward. I scrambled to my feet as he held me there, "I accept there's something strange about you both, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured - and as for all this about your parents, well, they were all weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion - asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types - just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end -"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon over my head like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley - I'm warning you - one more word. . ."

Fearing being speared on the end of the umbrella by the bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failing again; he released me at once and flattened himself against the wall, falling silent. I fell to my knees and Harry quickly helped me back toward the fire.

"That's better," Hagrid said, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Both Harry and I, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry - I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you both. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggests myst'ry see. . .he was gettin' more an' more powerful - why'd he go?"

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they couldn've done if he was comin' back."

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you two finished him, Harry and Cheyenne. There was some somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on - I dunno what it was, no one does - but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry and I with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but the two of us, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A witch and a wizard? Us? How could we possibly be? We'd spent our lifes being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if we were really a witch and a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock us in our cupboard and closet? If we'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick us around like a couple of footballs?

"Hagrid," we said quietly, "We think you must have made a mistake. Neither of us think we could be a witch or wizard."

To our surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a witch or wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry and I looked at each other. Now that we came to think about it. . .every odd thing that had ever made our aunt and uncle furious with us had happened when Harry or I had been upset or angry. . .chased by Dudley's gang, we had somehow found ourselves out of their reach. . .him dreading going to school with his ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back. . .and the very last time Dudley had hit us, hadn't we got our revenge, without even realizing we'd done it? Hadn't we set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry and I returned our gazes to Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at us.

"See?" Hagrid said. "Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power not a witch or wizard - you wait, you'll both be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you they're not going?" he hissed. "They're going to Stonewell High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they need all sorts of rubbish - spell books and wands and -"

"If they want ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop them," Hagrid growled. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son and Mark an' Kristen Power's daughter goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their names' been down ever since they were born. They're off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the wold. Seven years there and they won't know themselves. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled -"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH THEM MAGIC TRICKS!" Uncle Vernon yelled.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER -" he thundered, " - INSULT - ALBUS - DUMBLEDORE - IN - FRONT - OF - ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley - there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on us, Harry and I saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at the two of us under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if neither of yeh mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm - er - not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff - one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job -"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" Harry and I asked.

"Oh, well - I was at Hogwarts meself but I - er - got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," Hagrid said loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all ter books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry and I.

"You two can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a big, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."


	5. Diagon Alley

**Chapter Five**

**Diagon Alley**

I awoke early the next morning, and from Harry's movements next to me, I could tell he was awake too. Even though I could tell it was daytime, I did not open my eyes.

"It was a dream," I heard Harry say firmly. I nodded in agreement. "I dreamt that a giant called Hagrid came to tell me and Cheyenne that we were going to a school for witches and wizards. When I open my eyes, I will be at home in my cupboard with Cheyenne."

The sound of loud tapping reached my ears. I opened my eyes and sat up, Hagrid's coat sliding halfway off my body. The hut was lit with bright morning light, the storm gone. On the sofa, Hagrid lay asleep, and at one of the dusty windows, an owl was tapping its claw on the glass, a newspaper held tightly in its beak.

"All right," Harry mumbled next to me, making me look at him. "I'm getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's coat slid all the way off us. Harry looked around the hut, scrambling to his feet when he saw the owl, and going to open the window. A balloon of happiness seemed to well in my stomach as I slowly got to my feet. The owl swooped in the open window, dropping the newspaper on Hagrid, who didn't even stir. Then, the owl fluttered to the floor, beginning to attack Hagrid' coat.

"Don't do that!" Harry said quickly.

He hurried over and tried to shoo the owl away. It just snapped its beak at him and processed to savage the coat.

I tilted my head, "He probably wants something," I said to myself and started looking through the many coat pockets. The coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets, hundreds of pockets. Inside were a bunch of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, and teabags. Finally, with Harry's help, we uncovered a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," Came Hagrid's sleepy voice.

"Knuts?" Harry and I questioned together.

"The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five of the little bronze coins, and put them in a little leather pouch tied around the owl's leg. We watched the owl fly out through the open window.

A loud yawn came from Hagrid as he sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off ya two, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London and buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry and I were looking over the wizard coins, checking each side. A thought that struck me made my happy balloon start to deflate.

"Er - Hagrid?"

"Mm?" He asked, pulling on his large boots.

"Neither Cheyenne or I have any money - and you heard Uncle Vernon last night. . .he won't pay for us to learn magic." Harry said and I nodded.

"Harry's right, Hagrid, how're we going to pay for our school supplies if we have no money?" I questioned, looking up at the giant.

"Don't worry about that," Hagrid said, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think either of your parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed -"

"They didn't keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Here, have a sausage, they're not bad cold - an' if it's all the same ter ya, I'd ask if I could have some of yer cake."

"Wizards have banks?" Harry and I asked, surprised.

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

I almost choked on my piece of sausage while Harry dropped his.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah - so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh both that. Never mess with goblins yeh two. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe - 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact I gotta visit Gringotts meself. Gotta pick up something fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid puffed out his chest proudly; I reached over and poked his belly, watching as he made a funny noise, his chest going back. I giggled. "The important stuff he usually leaves ter me. Fetching yeh two - retrieving stuff from Gringotts - knows he can trust me, see."

"Now, yeh both got everything? Come along."

Harry and I followed the giant out onto the rock. No clouds were visible in the sky, and the sun made the sea gleam brightly like newly polished glass. The rented boat Uncle Vernon had used was still in it's place, the bottom filled with water.

I looked around for another boat but found none. I heard Hagrid say he flew here. I tried to imagine that as Harry helped me in to the rowboat. He got in next to me.

" -yeh two wouldn't mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?" I heard Hagrid say and I came out of my thinking, nodding as Harry gave his answer. We watched Hagrid pull out his pink umbrella once more, tap the side of the boat twice, then we were speeding off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" I heard Harry ask.

"Spells - enchantments," I watched Hagrid unfold his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way - Gringotts is hundreds of miles underground, see. Deep under London's Underground. Even if yeh did get yer hands on something, yeh'd die of hunger trying ter get out."

I drifted off into thought at that, leaving Hagrid to read his paper. Uncle Vernon had taught us that people liked to be left alone at this time.

I only half listened to what Harry and Hagrid said, letting my throughts wonder vaguely. All I heard was something about a Ministry of Magis and their job, but that was pretty much it.

I came back from my thinking when our boat gently hit the harbor wall. I followed Harry and Hagrid up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared at Hagrid as we walked through the little town to the train station. Harry and I looked at each other; we really couldn't blame them. Along with his size, Hagrid was always pointing towards really ordinary things, such as parking meters, and practically shouting, "See that yeh two? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Um, Hagrid," Harry and I panted some, running to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so some say," Hagrid replied. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?"

"Wanted one since I was a kid - here we go."

We'd reached the station. A train to London was leaving in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand 'Muggle money' as he called it, handed the bills to Harry and I so we could buy our tickets.

Hagrid attracted even more attention on the train. He took up two seats and sat knitting what looked to be a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letters, Harry, Cheyenne?" Hagrid asked, counting stitches.

Harry and I took the parckment envelopes out of our pockets.

"Good, there's a list of everything yeh need."

I unfolded a second piece of paper I hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

Hogwarts School of

Witchcraft and Wizardry

Uniform

First-year students will require

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Course Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

By: Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic By: Bathilda Bogshot

Magical Theory By: Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration By: Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

By: Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions By: Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

By: Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

By: Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry and I wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," Hagrid said.

Neither Harry nor I had ever been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, the giant was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. Along with getting stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, he complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as we climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so big that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and I had to do was keep close behind him. We passed book shopes and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but none looked like it would sell it's costumbers a magic wand. However, this was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beanth our feet? Was there really a shop where Harry and I could buy spell books and broomsticks? Could this not be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? Harry and I glanced at each other; if we hadn't known that the Dursleys had absolutely no sense of humor, we might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told us so far was quite unbelievable, Harry and I couldn't help but trust the giant.

"This is it," Hagrid said, breaking through my bubble of thought, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

We had stopped in front of a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry and I wouldn't have noticed it there. The people hurrying past didn't even spare the pub a glance. Their eyes only seemed to focus on either the record store on one side or the big book store on the other. I had the strangest feeling that only Harry, Hagrid annd I could truly see the pub. Before either Harry or I could say a word, Hagrid had steered us inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. In a corner sat a couple of old women, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking from a long pipe. A little man wearing a top hat was up at the bar, talking with the bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when we walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a clear glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," Hagrid said, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and I saw his knees buckle. I quickly grabbed his arm to hold him up.

"Good Lord," the bartender said, peering at Harry and I, "is this - can it be -?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. Everyone was staring at us. I scooted behind Harry, feeling my cheeks burning as self-conciousness set in.

"Bless my soul," the old bartender whispered, "The tag team, Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power. . .what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and I and seized Harry's hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter and Miss Power, welcome back."

Neither of us knew what to say. Everyone was still looking at us. The old woman smoking the pipe was still puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

The room was filled with the sound of scraping chairs and before we knew what was going on, Harry and I were shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, Miss Power, can't believe I'm meeting you both at last."

"Hagrid?" I said, wanting to leave.

"We've seen you before!" Harry said and I stopped, turning my head. He was right, I recongzied the short man as his top hat feel off in his excitment. "You bowed to Chey and I once in a shop." I nodded, "Harry's right, you did, at the grocery store."

"They remember!" The short man cried, making me jump and duck behind Harry again. "Did you hear that? They remember me!"

We shook hands again and again - Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man came forward, quite nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. I got a weird vibe from him.

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid said. "Harry, Cheyenne, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter, P-P-Power," Professor Quirrell stammered, grasping Harry's, then my own hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you both."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry and I asked.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," Professor Quirrell muttered, as though he really didn't want to talk about it, "N-not that e-either of you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter, P-P-Power?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked positively terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry and I to himself. It took us almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself be heard over the babble.

"Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, Harry, Cheyenne."

I saw Doris Crockford shake Harry's hand one last time before Hagrid led us through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard. All there was though was a trash can and a couple of weeds.

Hagrid grinned at us.

"Told yeh both, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh - mind you, he'd usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studying outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand. . .They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject - now, where's me umbrella?"

"Vampires? Hags? Oh, I've always read about them before, do you think we'll get to go into this Dark Forest and see some?" I asked as Hagrid counted the bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"I don't know, Cheyenne, it's pretty dangerous there. Maybe when yeh older and more experienced." Hagrid said, putting his arm out and gently moving Harry and I back. "Three up. . .two across. . .Right, stand back yeh two."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered - it wiggled - in the middle a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later we were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid. This archway led onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Hagrid said.

I saw Hagrid give Harry and I a smile at our amazement. We stepped through the archway. Harry and I both looked quickly over our shoulders in time to see the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

From a nearby shop, the sun glinted off a stack of cauldrons outside it's door. There were all kinds of cauldrons, all of them different sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible, the sign over them read.

"Yeah, you'll both be needin' one," Hagrid said, "but we gotta get yer money first."

I felt like an owl as I tried to twist my head all the way around to see all the different shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. I saw a plump woman outside an Apothecary shaking her head as we passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad. . . . "

"Wow, owls!" I said, tugging Harry's sleeve and pointing to the shop, Eeylops Owls Emporium. Harry and I looked up at some boys looking at broomsticks. "Look," We heard one say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever -" We saw different shopes selling robes, telescopes and strange silver instruments neither Harry nor I had seen before. In windows, there were barrels of rat spleens, and eels' eyes, along with piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, and globes of the moon. . . .

"Gringotts," Hagrid's voice drew our attention and Harry and I looked up.

We'd reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside it's burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yeah, that's a goblin," Hagrid said quietly as we walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin had a clever face, a pointed beard and long fingers and feet. It was about a head shorter than Harry. The creature bowed to us as we walked inside. Now we faced a pair of silver doors, words ingraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors,

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasures here.

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Hagrid said.

We were bowed in by a pair of goblins and then we were in a vast marble hall. Almost a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were way too many doors to count that led off the hall, and, if possible, even more goblins showing people in and out of the doors. Hagrid led Harry and I to the counter.

"Morning," Hagrid greeted an open goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Cheyenne Power's safe."

"You have their key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," I heard Hagrid say as Harry and I watched a nearby goblin weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hagrid pull some moldy dog biscuits out of his pockets, making the goblin wrinkle it's nose in disgust when it accidently spilled on his book of numbers.

"Chey, we're going," Harry whispered, nudging me in the side. I blinked, hurrying after him, Hagrid and another goblin.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked. I looked up at Hagrid quizzically.

"Can't tell either of yeh," Hagrid's voice had a hint of mystery in it. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. This' more'n my job's worth ter tell yeh both that much."

Soon, we came to a door, which the goblin, I think his name was Griphook, held open for us. We stepped into a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. Harry and I looked at each other, surprised. We'd expected marble. On the floor, we spotted little railway tracks, which followed the steeply downward sloped passage. Griphook's whistle made me jump, and we watched a small cart hurtle toward us along the tracks. Harry got in with Griphook, then turned to help me step in. Hagrid got in behind me, having some difficulty. When he was in, the cart started off.

I sat silently beside Harry as we hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. It was hard to remember which turns we took when we turned another corner almost immeidently after. My eyes fell on the goblin at the front of the cart, and was surprised to find he wasn't steering. The cart seemed to know it's own way.

The cold air blew my hair back out of my face, and I rubbed my eyes as the air made them water. A bright burst of light made me look up quickly and I whipped my head around. My eyes caught a glance of a long, scaley tail before we plunged deeper. I blinked, rubbing my eyes again.

"Hagrid?" I asked worriedly as the cart stopped beside a small door in the passage wall, and he leapt out of the cart as though he was on fire. I looked up. He looked quite green as he leaned aainst the wall. His knees were trembling slightly.

I got out with Harry and we stood together as we watched Griphook unlock the door. I coughed as green smoke billowed from the opening, waving my hand to clear some of it from my veiw. As it cleared, Harry and I gasped together. Inside the vault, we saw mounds of gold coin, columns of silver and heaps of the little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," Hagrid told us, smiling.

All ours, mine and Harry's - it was incredible. The Dursleys could not have known about this or there'd probably be no coins at all. I remembered all the times they'd complain of the amount of money Harry and I cost them. And to think, there'd been a small fortune belong to the two of us, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped us pile some of the coins into two small bags.

"The gold coins are Galleons," he explained to us. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right that should be enought ter last yeh both a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." Hagrid then turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go a bit slower?"

"One speed only," Griphook replied.

We were going even deeper underground and gathering speed. The air seemed to get colder as we hurtled around right corners. We went rattling over a ravine, and I saw Harry lean over the side of the cart to get a better look. Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," Griphook said importantly. With a simple stroke of the goblin's slender fingers, the door easily melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringott's goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped inside," Griphook explained.

"How often do you check the vault?" Harry and I asked.

"Almost once every ten years," The goblin said with a really nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, we were sure. Harry and I leaned forward eagerly, expecting fabulous jewels and gold - but when the door opened, we first thought it was empty. Then we noticed a grubby little package wrapped in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked the package up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry and I longed to know what it was, but we knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," Hagrid said gruffly.

One wild cart ride later, we stood, blinking, in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Neither Harry nor I knew where to go first now that we both had a bag full of money. We didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that we were both holding more money than we'd had in our whole lifes - more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniforms," Hagrid said, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, Cheyenne, would either of yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I really hate them Gringotts carts." He really did still look green, so Harry and I entered the shop by ourselves, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was squat, but very smily. Her clothes were mauve.

"Hogwarts, dears?" She asked, before either of us could speak. "Got the lot here - another young man's being fitting now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. I sat on the floor nearby as Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to the boy, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello, Hogwarts, too?" The boy asked.

"Yes," Harry and I replied.

"Father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy said. His voice was bored and drawling. "Then, I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I really don't see why first yers can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me a broom and maybe I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry glanced at me; we both thought immiedently of Dudley.

"Have either of you got your own broom?" The boy continued.

"No, we don't," I said for both of us. I didn't like this boy, he seemed too much like the bragging type.

"You're done, dear," Madam Malkin said to Harry with a smile. Harry got down from the stool as I got to my feet. He helped me up onto the stool and Madam Malkin slipped a black robe over my head. She began to pin it to my size.

"Are you two like boyfriend and girlfriend or something?" The boy asked, having watched Harry help me step up onto the stool.

My face became hot in embarressment and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry's face turn red, "N-no, Chey and I are just friends, I-I mean, w-we just think of each other like siblings." Harry said quickly, waving his hands back and forth.

"I say, look at him!" The boy said suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid stood outside, grinning at Harry and I. He pointed at three ice creams to show why he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," Harry and I said together. At least the two of us knew something the boy didn't I smiled at Hagrid, nodding to him.

"Why is the giant with you two? Where are both your parents?" I heard the boy ask.

"They're all dead." Harry and I said shortly. We didn't want to go into any details with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," The other boy said, not a hint of sympathy in his voice. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were witches and wizards, if that's what you mean," We said. I looked away, not wanting to talk about it.

"All right, dear, you're done." Madam Malkin said, smiling up at me.

"Thank you," I said politely, hopping down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you both at Hogwarts, I suppose," The drawling boy said.

I silently followed Hagrid and Harry through the streets, eating my ice cream. Harry was just as quiet.

"What's up?" Hagrid asked.

"Nothing," Harry lied for both of us. We stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry and I cheered up a bit when we found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. As we left the shop, Harry looked up at Hagrid and asked, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, I keept forgettin' how little yeh both know - not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make us feel worse," Harry and I said together. Harry told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's. I sighed, drifting off into thought.

"Quidditch is our sport. Wizard sport. It's like - like soccer in the Muggle World - everyone follows Quidditch - played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard ter explain the rules." I heard Hagrid explain to us.

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' dufferes, but -"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff." Harry and I said, gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," Hagrid replied darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol - sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years and years ago," Hagrid said.

We bought my and Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts, a place where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books ranging between the size of paving stones to that of a postage stamp. Some books were full of peculiar sumbolws and a few books were completely empty. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these books. Hagrid and I had to drag Harry away from a book called Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) By: Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley," Harry explained to Hagrid and I as we continued down the cobbled street.

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but neither of yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," Hagrid replied, looking down at the two of us. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll both need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let us get gold cauldrons since we needed pewter instead, but we each got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then we visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for it's horrible smell of a mix of bad eggs and cabbages. On the floor were barrels of slimy stuff; jars of herbs, dried roots, and lining the walls were bright powders; from the ceiling hung bundles of feathers, strings of feathers, and snarled claws. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for two supplies of basic potion ingredients for Harry and I, we examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes for five Knuts a scoop.

"Just yer wands left - Oh yeh, an' I still haven't got yeh birthday presents." Hagrid said after checking Harry's list.

Blood rushed to our faces.

"You don't have to." We said together.

"It's not even my birthday. Mine's in Feburary."

"I know I don't have to," Hagrid cut in, giving a caring smile. "And I know when yeh're birthday is Cheyenne. Tell yeh both what, I'll get yer animals. Not a toad, toads went outta fasion years ago, yeh'd both be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yeh both an owl. Everyone wants an owl, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, Harry and I left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling, flickering jewel bright eyes. Harry's owl was a beautiful snowy white female, while mine was a handsome raven black male, both asleep with their heads tucked under their wings. We couldn't stop stammering our thanks to Hagrid, sounding remotely like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it, yeh two," Hagrid said gruffly. "Don' expect either o' you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and both of yeh gotta have the best wands."

A magic wand. . .this was what Harry and I had really been looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Over the door, in peeling gold letters, was the name of the shop; Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. On a faded purple cushion sitting in the window lay a single wand.

As we stepped inside, we heard the sound of a tinkling bell sound from the depths of the shop. The place was tiny, empty except for a single spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry and I felt strangely as though we had entered a very strict library; the questions bubbling up in my throat were swallowed back as I looked around at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly up to the ceiling. The hair on the back of my neck prickled for some reason. The silence and dust in here seemed to tingle with some hidden magic.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice said. Harry and I jumped. From the crunching sound behind us, I guessed Hagrid must have jumped too, and he quickly got off the spindly chair.

An old man with wide, pale eyes stood before us, his eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," Harry said awkwardly as I hid behind him, peeking out at the man over my best friend's shoulder.

"Ah, yes," the man said. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing both of you soon. Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power." It wasn't a question. "You both have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday they were both in here themselves, buying their first wands. Ten and a quarter inches each, one swishy, the other slightly flexible. One made of willow, the other pine. Both nice wands for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander took a step closer to us. I dearly wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your fathers, on the other hand, each favored mahogany wands. Both eleven inches. One pliable, the other somewhat swishy. Both with a little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored them - however, it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander was so close to Harry that their noses were almost touching. I could see him reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where. . ."

I saw Mr. Ollivander touch one long, white finger to Harry's lightning scar before his pale eyes turned to me, looking at the identical scar on my forehead.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did this," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands. . .well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . ."

He shook his head, then, to my and Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again. . .Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was, sir," Hagrid said.

"Good wand, that one. But they snapped it in half when you got expelled, I suppose?" Mr. Ollivander said, his tone turning stern.

"Er - yes, they did," Hagrid replied, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces at home, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" Mr. Ollivander said sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," Hagrid replied quickly. Harry and I noticed Hagrid grip his pink umbrella quite tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," Mr. Ollivander said, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now - Mr. Potter, Miss Power. Let me see," he produced a long tape measure from his pocket. "Which are your wand arms?"

"Er - well, we're both right-handed," Harry said for both of us.

"Mr. Potter, hold out your arm first. That's it." I stepped away from Harry as he began to get measured. As he measured, Mr. Ollivander said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magic substance, Mr. Potter, Miss Power. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons and phoenixes are quite the same. And, natrually, you will never get much good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry and I suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was now measuring me between my nostrils, was doing it on it's own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the selves, taking down different boxes.

"That'll do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter, Miss Power. Try these. Beech wood, oak, both with dragon heartstrings. Each nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take them and give 'em a wave."

Harry and I took the wands and (feeling foolish) waved them around a bit. However, the wands were snatched out of our hands almost at once by Mr. Ollivander.

We kept trying different wands. The pile of wands Harry and I tried mounted higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander had us try, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customers, eh? Not to worry though, we'll find the perfect matches here somewhere - Hm, I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combinations - holly, pine, each with a phoenix feather core, eleven inches, both nice and supple."

Harry and I looked at each other, then we each took a wand. He took the holly, I took the pine. I felt a sudden warmth in my fingers. As though we were one being, Harry and I raised the wands above our heads, then brought them swishing down through the dusty air; two streams of red and gold admitted from the ends of our wands like fireworks, dancing spots of light thrown onto the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped while Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, very good you two. Well, well, well. . .how curious. . .how very curious. . ."

He put my and Harry's wands back into their boxes and wrapped them in brown paper. He kept muttered, "Curious. . . curious,"

"Sorry," Harry finally spoke up, "But what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry and I with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. . .Miss Power. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feathers that are in both your wands, gave another feather - just one other. It is curious indeed that you both should be destined for these wands when their brother - why, their brother gave you those scars."

I felt about ready to faint.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half-inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . .I think we must expect great things from you two, Mr. Potter and Miss Power. . . .After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

Harry and I shivered. I wasn't sure I liked Mr. Ollivander very much. We each paid seven gold Galleons for our wands, and Mr. Ollivander bowed us from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry, Hagrid and I made our way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, and through the now empty Leaky Cauldron. Neither Harry nor I spoke much as we walked down the road; Harry didn't seem to notice, but I did as I saw people on the Underground gawking at us, laden as we were with all our funny-shaped packages, with snowy and black owls asleep in their cages on my and Harry's laps. Up another escalator and out into Paddington station; Harry and I only seemed to realize where we were when we were brought back by a tap to our shoulders, curtasy of Hagrid.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry and I each a hamburger and we all sat down on plastic chairs to eat. Harry and I kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Harry, Cheyenne? Yer both very quiet." Hagrid said.

Neither Harry nor I was sure how to explain. We'd just had the best day of our lifes - but yet - we silently chewed our hamburgers, glancing at each other from time to time and trying to find the right words.

"Everyone thinks we're speical," We said together at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander. . .but we don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? We're famous and we can't even remember what the heck we're famous for. We don't even know what happened when Vol -, pardon - we mean, the night our parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table toward us. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows, he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' either of you worry, Harry, Cheyenne. You'll both learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, so you'll be just fine. Just be yerselves. I know it's hard. Yeh're both been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll both have a great time at Hogwarts - I did - still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Harry and I onto the train that would take us back to the Dursleys, then handed us each an envelope.

"Yer tickets for Hogwarts," he explained. "First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on ter tickets. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with one o' yer owls, they'll know where to find me. . .See yeh both soon, Harry, Cheyenne."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry and I wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; Harry rose in his seat, while I just leaned over. We both pressed our faces against the window, but we blinked and Hagrid was gone.


	6. Journey from Platform Nine and 3 quarter

**Chapter Six**

**The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters**

My and Harry's last month with the Dursleys was anything but fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of us that he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut us in our cupboards, force either of us to do anything, or shout at us - in fact, they didn't speak to either of us at all. Half terrified and half furious, they acted as though any chair with one of us in it was empty. Although this was a great improvement in many ways, it did become a little depressing after a while.

Mostly, Harry and I kept to our shared room, with each other and our new owls for company. Harry had named his owl Hedwig, while I named mine Elon, both names found in A History of Magic. Our school books were really fasinating. We would lay on our beds, reading our books late into the night while Hediwg and Elon swooped in and out through our open window as they pleased. Lucky for us, Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vaccum anymore, since Hedwig and Elon would bring back dead mice. Every night before we turned out our lights and went to bed, Harry would tick off another day on a piece of paper, a homemade calender we'd made together, counting down to September the first.

On the last day of August, we agreed we'd speak to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about getting a lift to King's Cross station the next day, so we went down to the living room, where the Dursleys were watching a quiz show on television. Harry cleared his throat to let them know we were there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er - Uncle Vernon?" Harry said.

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er - we need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to - to go to Hogwarts." I said.

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave us a lift?" We asked at the same time now.

Grunt. Harry and I supposed that meant yes.

"Thank you."

We turned to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon finally spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Neither Harry nor I said anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"We don't know," Harry and I said, realizing this for the first time. Harry pulled out the tickets Hagrid had given us from his pocket.

"We just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock." he read.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon stared.

"Platform what?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"Nine and three-quarters," Harry and I repeated together.

"Don't talk rubbish," Uncle Vernon snapped. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on our tickets." I said.

"Barking," Uncle Vernon muttered, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You both just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why're you going to London?" Harry asked. From his tone, I knew he tried to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital." Uncle Vernon growled. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

Harry and I awoke at five o'clock the next morning and we were both too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. We got up and pulled jeans on because we didn't want to walk into the train station in our wizard's robes - we'd change on the train. We checked our Hogwarts lists once more to make sure we had everything we needed, saw that Hedwig and Elon were shut safely into their cages, then I watched Harry pace our room as we waited for the Dursleys to get up. About two hours later, both my and Harry's huge, heavy trunks had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry and I and we had set off.

We reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped our trunks onto a couple of carts and wheeled Harry's in for him while Harry kindly took mine. We both thought it was strangely kind of Uncle Vernon to wheel Harry's cart. That is, until he stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are, you two. Platform nine - platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle. . .nothing at all.

"Have a good term," Uncle Vernon said, his smile turning even nastier. He left without another word. Harry and I turned and watched the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Our mouths went dry. What on earth were we going to do? We were starting to attract a lot of funny stares, because of Hedwig and Elon. We'd have to ask someone.

Harry stopped a passing guard, but neither of us dared to mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when we couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry and I were acting stupid on purpose. Getting really desparate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry and I were not trying very hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, we had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and neither of us had any idea how to do it; we were both stranded in the middle of a station with two trunks both of us could hardly lift, a couple of pocket fulls of wizard money, and two large owls.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell us something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. We wondered if one of us should get out one of our wands and start tapping the ticket inspectors stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind us and we caught a few words of what they were saying.

"-packed with Muggles, of course-"

Harry and I swung around. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all of them with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like ours' in front of him - and they had an owl.

Hearts hammering, Harry and I pushed our carts after them. They stopped and so did we, just close enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" The boys' mother asked.

"Nine and three-quarters!" Piped up the small girl, also sporting red hair, who was holding her hand. "Mom, can't I go too. . .?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What appeared to be the oldest boy, marched toward platform nine and ten. We watched, careful not to blink in case we missed it - but just as the boy reached the diving barrier between the platforms, a large crowd of tourists obscured our vision. By the time the last backpack had been cleared away, the boy had vanished.

"Fred, you're next," the woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," the boy said, one of the twins, "Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," The boy said, and off he went. I giggled at the joke as the boy's twin called after him to hurry up. The boy must have done so, because a second later, he was gone - but how had he done it?

The third brother was now walking briskly toward the barrier - he was almost there - and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse us," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dears," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new too."

She pointed to the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," Harry said. "T-the thing is - the thing is, we don't know how to -"

"How to get onto the platform?" She asked kindly, and Harry and I nodded.

"Not to worry," She said. "Now, all you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, you both can go before Ron."

"Er - okay," Harry said. I nodded, deciding to go first.

I pushed my trolley around to face the barrier. It looked very solid.

I broke into a sprint. People jostled me on their way to platforms nine and ten. My sprint broke out into a full out run. I was going to smash into the barrier and then we'd be in trouble. I heard Harry yell after me to stop, but my cart was out of control. I closed my eyes when I was a foot away, ready for impact.

It didn't come. . .I started to slow and opened my eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was stopped next to a platform packed with people. A sign above my head read Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. I glanced behind me and saw a wrought iron archway where the barrier had been. Words encraved on the gate read Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. I'd done it. I moved quickly out of the way so others could come in and Harry joined me a moment later.

Smoke drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every size and color wound their way between people's legs. Owls hooted to each other, their hoots sounding disgruntled over the babble and scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages Harry and I passed were already packed with students. Some of them were hanging out the windows to talk with their families, while others were fighting over seats. Harry and I pushed our carts off down the platform in search of a couple of empty seats. We passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," We heard the old woman sigh.

We passed a boy with dreadlocks, who was surrounded by a small croud.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the box's lid. The people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

We pressed on through the crowd until we found an empty compartment near the end of the train. We put Hedwig and Elon inside first and then we started to try and shove and heave our trunks towards the train door. We first tried to get Harry's trunk up the steps but we could hardly lift it. Twice we dropped it painfully on both our feet.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins we'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry and I panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, my and Harry's trunks were at last tucked away in two corners of the compartment.

"Thanks," Harry and I said, moving some sweaty bangs from our eyes.

"What are those?" One of the twins asked, pointing at our lightning scars.

"Blimey," the other said. "Are you two -?"

"They are," The first twin interjected, "Aren't you?" he added to us.

"What?" Harry and I asked.

"Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power," the twins chorused.

"Oh, them," Harry and I sighed. "W-we mean, yes, yes we are."

The twins just gawked at us, and I felt warmth rush into my face. Then, to both our reliefs, a voice floated in through the open train door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Harry and I, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry and I sat down next to the window where, partly hidden, we could watch the red-haired family on the platform and heard what they were saying. Their mother had pulled out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest son tried to duck out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mom - geroff!" He wiggled away from her.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" one of the twins said. I giggled some at that, the twins were funny.

"Shut up," Ron said.

"Where's Percy?" Their mother asked.

"Here he comes."

The oldest boy came striding over to them. He'd already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and we noticed a shiny silver badge pinned to the front with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he told her. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves -"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" One of the twins said with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on," The other twin said, "I think I remember him saying something about it. Once -"

"Or twice -"

"A minute -"

"All summer -"

"Oh, shut up," Percy the Prefect said. I giggled again.

"How come Percy get new robes, anyway?" One of the twins asked.

"Because he's a prefect," Their mother said fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a nice term - send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy's cheek and he left. She turned instantly to the twins.

"Now, you two - this year, you'd better behave yourselves. I don't want another owl telling me you've - you've blown up a toilet or -"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It is not funny. And be sure to look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up!" Ron said again. The boy was already almost as tall as the twins and his nose was still slightly pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who two people we just met on the train?"

Harry leaned back in his seat, while I slouched down some so they couldn't see us looking.

"You know that black haired boy and the dark brown haired girl, the ones who were near us in the station? Know who they were?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power!"

We suddenly heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see them, Mom, oh, please. . .?"

"You've already seen them, Ginny, and the poor kids aren't something you can goggle at in a zoo. Are they really, Fred? How do you know?

"Asked 'em. Saw their scars. They're really there - like lightning!"

"Poor dears - no wonder they were alone, I wondered. They were ever so polite when they asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think they remember what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need to be reminded of something like that on their first day of school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle suddenly sounded.

"Hurry up!" Their mother said, hurrying the three boys onto the train. They all leaned out the window so she could kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister started to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls,"

"We'll even send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Just joking, Mom."

The train started to move. Harry and I saw the boys' mother waving, while their sister, half laughing, half crying, was running to keep up with the train. But it gathered too much speed and she fell behind, waving.

We watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded a corner and was gone. Houses flashed past the window. I slumped back into my seat with excitment, a happy grin breaking across my face as I smiled at Harry, who smiled happily back. We didn't know what the heck we were going to - but it definately had to be better than what we were leaving behind us.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red-haired boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing to the seat next to me. "Everwhere else is full."

"Oh, wait, here, you can have my seat," I said, taking my book and going to sit next to Harry. The boy thanked me and sat across from Harry. He quickly glanced at us, then turned his attention out the window, pretending he wasn't looking at us. Harry and I saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula," said one twin. I gulped at the mention of a spider.

"Right," Ron mumbled.

"Harry, Cheyenne," The other said. "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," Harry, Ron, and I said. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you two really Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power?" Ron blurted out.

Harry and I nodded.

"Oh - well. I thought it might just be one of Fred and George's jokes," Ron said. "And have you both really got - you know. . ."

He pointed at Harry's, then my, forehead.

We pulled back our bangs to show our lightning scars. Ron stared.

"So, that's where You-Know-Who -?"

"Yeah," Harry and I said together, nodding, "but we can't remember it."

"Nothing?" Ron asked. I could heard the eagerness in his voice.

"Well - we do remember a lot of green light, but not much else."

"Wow," Ron said. He stared at Harry and I for a few moments, then, as though realizing what he was doing, he looked quickly out the window again.

"Hey, um. . .Ron," I spoke up. "Are all of your family wizards?" Harry finished. We both found Ron just as interesting as Ron found us.

"Er - yes, I think so," Ron said. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never really talk about him."

"You must know loads of magic then."

The Weasleys sounded like one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"I heard you both went to live with Muggles," Ron said. "What were they like?"

"Horrible," Harry and I said together, "Well, not all of them. Our aunt, uncle, and cousin are, though. Wish we'd grown up with three wizard brothers."

"Five," Ron corrected, suddenly looking very gloomy. "I'm the sixth in the family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was Head Boy while Charlie was the Captian of the Quidditch team. Now, Percy's a prefect. Fred and George like to mess around but they still have good marks and everyone thinks they're funny." I scratched at the back of my neck, remembering everything back at the station. Harry smirked lightly at me. "Everyone expects me to do as well as they do, but, really, if I do, it'll be no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five older brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Harry and I watched as Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat grey rat, one who was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's really useless, he's hardly ever awake. Percy got an owl from dad for being a prefect, but they couldn't aff - well, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears turned pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he turned his head and went back to staring out the window.

Neither Harry nor I thought there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, neither of us had ever had any money in our lifes until about a month ago. We told Ron so, everything about how we had to wear Dudley's old clothes and how we never got any proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up a great deal.

". . .and until Hagrid told us, neither of us know anything about being a witch or a wizard or about our parents or Voldemort -"

Ron suddenly gasped.

"What?" Harry and I asked.

"You two said You-Know-Who's name!" Ron said, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you both, of all people -"

"We're not trying to be brave or anything. saying the name," Harry interrupted politely. "We just never knew you shouldn't. See what we mean?" I finished, moving some bangs from my eyes as I looked at Ron. "We've got lots to learn. . . .we bet," We said together, voicing for the first time something that we were both worried deeply about. My hand gently found Harry's and he reassuringly squeezed, "We bet we'll be the worst in the class."

"Neither of you will be. There're loads of people that come from Muggle families and they all learn quickly enough."

While we'd been talking, the train had carried us out of London. Now we were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. We went quiet for a time, the boys just watching the fields and lanes flick past while I read a little more of my spell book.

Around half past twelve, a great cluttering was heard outside in the corridor. Harry, Ron and I looked up as a smiling, dimpled woman slid open the door and said, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Harry and I, neither of us having had had breakfast, leapt to our feet, but Ron stayed sitting. His ears turned pink again as he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry and I went out into the corridor.

Neither of us had ever had any money for candy when we were with the Dursleys, and now that we both had pockets rattling with gold and silver, we were ready to buy so many Mars Bars as we could carry, but, apparently, the woman had no Mars Bars. What she did have though was Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things neither Harry nor I had ever seen in our lifes. Not wanting to miss anything, we both pooled some of our money and got some of everything, paying the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron stared as Harry and I carried it all back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, you two?"

"Starving." We said together as we each took a bite out of our individual pumpkin pasties.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. Inside were four sandwiches. He pulled one of them apart as he said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," Harry said, holding up a pasty. "Go on -"

"Oh, neither of you want this, it's all dry," Ron said. "She really hasn't got much time, ya know, with five of us." He added.

"Oh, go on Ron, have a pasty," I said, giving a small smile. Harry and I had only had each other to share with and even then we didn't have much to swap. We'd never had any other friends that we could share stuff with, even when we had had anything to share. It was really nice, sitting there with Ron, eating our way through all of my and Harry's pasties, cakes, and candies while the sandwiches lay, forgotten, on the seat.

"What are these?" I heard Harry ask Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" I interjected, looking closer at the pack. We were starting to feel like nothing would really surprise us.

"No," Ron said. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?" Harry and I asked.

"Oh, right, you two wouldn't know - Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect - famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy." I watched Harry unwrap the Chocolate Frog and I picked up the card. On it was a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long crooked nose and flowing silver hair, beard and mustache. Under the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" Harry and I said.

"Don't tell me you two've never heard of Dumbledore!" Ron said, then reached for one of the Chocolate Frogs, "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa - thanks -"

I turned over our card and read the back to Harry quietly:

Albus Dumbledore

CURRENT HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern time,

Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the

dark wuzard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the

twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy

with his partner, Nicolas Flamel, Professor Dumbledore

enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

I turned the card back over and we saw, to our astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!" We exclaimed together.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," Ron said. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her. . .do you two want it? You both can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," Harry said. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron looked up from unwrapping another Chocolate Frog, amazement clear in his voice, "Weird!"

Harry and I stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave us a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the Chocolate Frogs than really looking at the famous witches and wizards, but Harry and I couldn't keep our eyes off of them. Soon, we not only had Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hegist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. I finally looked up from the picture of the druidess Cliodna, who just stood scratching her nose, to the bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans in Harry's hand.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned us. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chcolate, and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh - see? Sprouts."

We had a good time eating the Every Flavor beans. I got apple, steak, tuna, salt, hamburger, pineapple, sushi and dirt. Harry and I were even brave enough to split a funny grey bean that Ron wouldn't touch which we both discovered was pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields were gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of our compartment and the round-faced boy Harry and I had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have any of you seen a toad at all?"

When we shook our heads, he wailed, "I've lot him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Harry and I said sympathically.

"Yes," the boy said miserably. "Well, if you see him. . ."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," Ron said as we relaxed back into our seats. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference." Ron said, disgust lacing his tone. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look. . ."

He got up and rummaged around in his trunk, pulling out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway -"

Ron had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already dressed in her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we hadn't seen it," Ron said, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er - all right."

He cleared his throat.

Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" The girl asked. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was very pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, but the way, who are you three?"

She said all this very fast.

I saw Harry look at Ron, who had a very stunned look on his face. It appeared that Harry wasn't the only one out of us that hadn't learned all our books by heart yet. I, however, like Hermione, had memorized every word out of all the books.

"Ron Weasley," I heard Ron mutter as I sat on the edge of my seat, looking at the other girl.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said before he softly patted my shoulder. "And this is Cheyenne Power." I gave a friendly smile.

"Are you really?" Hermione asked. "I know all about you both, of course - I got a couple extra books for background reading, and both of you are in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Are we?" Harry and I asked, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you two know? I'd find out everything I could if it was me," Hermione said. "Any of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . .Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it." Ron said. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell - George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" Harry and I asked curiously.

"Gryffindor," Ron said, gloom settling itself around him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol -, I-I mean, You-Know-Who was in?" Harry said.

"Yeah," Ron said. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed. I glanced quickly at Harry before looking at Ron again.

"You know, I think Scabber's whiskers are a bit light," Harry and I said together, trying to get Ron's mind off houses. "So, what do your older brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Harry and I were curious as to what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts." Ron said. "Did either of you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles - somone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry stared and I gasped.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get 'round Ginrgotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

I leaned back in my seat, letting the information sink in.

I was beginning to feel a knot of fear prickle in my stomach everytime You-Know-Who was mentioned. I figured that this was all apart of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comforting saying "Voldemort" without worrying. I looked at Harry, seeing him in just as deep a thought as I was. I rubbed at my arms as I felt a cold shiver run the length of my spine.

"Hey, what's your Quidditch team?" Ron's question burst the bubble that had surroded itself around me and I blinked, looking up at the red haired male.

"Er - we don't know any." Harry and I admitted.

"What?" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you both wait, it's the best game in the world-" And the young wizard was off, explaining to us all about the four balls and the positions of the seven, or eight, players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomsticks he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry and I though the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry and I recongized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry and I with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said, his voice gritting against my nerves. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power's in this compartment. So it's you two, is it?"

"Yes." Harry and I answered, my answer taut. I was checking out the other boys. Both were thick and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they almost looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," The pale boy said carelessy, noticing that Harry and I were looking at them. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been a way of hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy whirled his head to look at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask what your's is. My father told me all about the Weasleys, red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford."

He turned his head to look back at Harry and I. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. . .Power. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you both there."

He held out his hand towards Harry and I to shake hands, but neither of us took it.

"I think we can tell who the wrong sort are for ourselves, thanks." Harry said coolly. I smirked in agreement, glaring up at the boys.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a light pink did dust his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were either of you, Powter." He said slowly. Anger stirred in me at the way he combined mine and Harry's last names. The hair at the back of my neck rose and Harry's hand on my shoulder calmed me slightly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as both your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on both of you."

I watched as both Harry and Ron stood.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us now, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," Harry said. I could detect his scaredness under the brave front he tried to put up, because Crabbe and Goyle were bigger than both him and Ron, almost 10 times bigger. They looked to be bigger than me.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We seem to have eaten all our food and you still have some."

Goyle reached forward, towards the pile of Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt forward, but before he could so much as lay a finger on the larger boy, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, his sharp little teeth sunk deep in to the flesh of Goyle's knuckle-Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers around and around, howling at the top of his lungs. As soon as Scabbers finally flew from his knuckle and hit the window, all three of the boys had disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought more rats lurked among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second after they'd gone, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What in the wolrd has been going on in here?" She asked, looking around at the sweets littering the floor and Ron picking Scabbers up by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron informed Harry and I. He took a closer look at the rat. "No - I don't believe it - he's gone back to sleep."

And so the rat had.

"You both've met Malfoy before?"

Harry and I explained, in turn, of our meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family." Ron said darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched to follow him. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Now, can we help you with something?"

"You three'd better hurry up and put your robes on. I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll all be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabber's been the one fighting, not us." Ron said, scowling deeply at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change, please."

"All right - I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," Hermione said in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared after the girl as she left. Harry and I peered out the window. It was just beginning to get dark. We could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. We could feel the train beginning to slow down.

Ron and Harry took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. I just pulled mine on, having taken my jacket off a couple hours before. Ron's looked to be a bit short on him, we could see his sneakers underneath the robes.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

I gulped, pushing some hair out of my face again as butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Harry looked like his stomach had lurched and Ron's skin had paled under his freckles. We crammed our pockets with the last of our sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed instantly down and finally came to a complete halt. People pushed their way towards the doors and we stepped out on to a tiny, dark platform. I shivered in the cold night air. Suddenly, a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and Harry and I heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry, Cheyenne?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed high above the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me-any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and sliding, the first years followed Hagrid down, what appeared to be, a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of us that Harry and I thought there might be thick trees there. No body spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed behind us once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder to us, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, collective, "Oooooh!"

The narrow path opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the oppsite side, it's windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four or five to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing out the fleet of little boats sitting just by the water's shore. Harry, Ron and I were followed into our boat by Neville and Hermione.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid shouted, who had a boat all to himself. "Right then-FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats started moving off all at once, gliding across the dark lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It loomed over us as we sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it was settled.

"Heads down!" Hagrid yelled as the first boats reached the cliff; we all bent our heads and the little boats carried us through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the face of the cliff. We were carried through a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reached a kind of underground harbor, where we clambered out onto rocks and pebbles

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" asked Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" Neville cried blissfully, holding out his hands. After that, we clambered up a passageway in the rocks, following Hagrid's lamp. We came out, at last, onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	7. The Sorting Hat

**Chapter Seven**

**The Sorting Hat**

The large doors swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood before us. She had a very stern face and my first thought was that this woman was not someone I'd like to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.

"Thank you Hagrid, I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big it looked like it could fit the whole of the Dursley's house inside. The stone walls were lit up with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling were too high to totally make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing our group led to the upper floors.

We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry and I could hear the steady drone of hundreds of voices drifting from a large doorway to our right-the rest of the school must have already arrived before us-but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We all crowded in, standing closer than we usually would have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." I gulped, my hand finding Harry's as I moved closer to him. The thought of being in a separate house from my best friend scared me. His hand squeezed mine gently in reassurance. "Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your trumiphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. I saw Harry nervously trying to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall said. "Please wait quietly."

She left us alone in the chamber. I heard Harry swallow just as I swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron, who stood on his other side. I caned my neck to look at the other boy.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

My heart jumped in to overdrive. A test? In front of the whole school? But even if I had read all our books, I didn't know all the spells. I knew some of the magic, maybe one or two simple spells was all. What on earth was I going to have to do? I wouldn't have expected something like this the moment we arrived here. I took a swift look around. Everyone looked as terrified as I felt. No one was speaking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry and I tried not to listen to her. We'd never felt so nervous, ever, not even when we'd had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying one of us had somehow managed to turn our teachers wig blue. My eyes stayed trained on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead us to our doom.

Then somthing happened that almost made me jump clear out of my skin-several people behind Harry and I screamed. I shivered, gripping Harry's arm. He looked quickly around.

"What the-?"

I heard Harry gasp and I looked around too. The people around us gasped as well. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room, talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What appeared to be a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost-I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed us first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" The Fat Friar said, smiling around at us. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few of the other students around us nodded, mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" and the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," A sharp voice said. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Alright now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told us first years, "and follow me."

Feeling as though my legs had been transformed in to jello, I got in line behind a boy with sandy hair, Harry stepping in to line behind me. We walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through the large pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

I had imagined some of the splendid and wonderful magic Harry and I would experience here at Hogwarts, but I hadn't imagined it would be this wonderful. The Great Hall was lit by thousands upon thousands of candles that floated in midair over four long wooden tables, where the rest of the students were already seated. Glittering golden plates and goblets were laid on top of the tables. At the end of the hall stood another long table where, I believed, the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led us up towards the teachers table, until we came to a halt in a line facing the other, older years, the teachers behind us. The hundreds of faces watching us looked like pale laterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the misty silver of the ghosts stood out from the black clothe of the Hogwarts robes. I felt heat rushing in to my face and I turned my face downwards, looking at my shoes. Being in front of this many students really made me feel scared. I felt Harry gently nudge my ribs and he pointed to the ceiling when I peeked up at him from under my eyelashes. I turned my face upwards, my hazel eyes falling on a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. We heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was even a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open up in to the heavens.

Harry and I lowered our heads again when Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of us first years. On top of the stool was placed a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. I knew Aunt Petunia wouldn't have even let it sit on the thershold of the house.

I gulped, thinking we had to do a migicains trick as the test to determine which house we would be placed in. Harry and I noticed that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, so we both stared at it as well. For a few seconds, there was complete and utter silence. Then, the hat twitched. A rip near the hat's brim opened wide, almost like a mouth-and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep you bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning fold use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall around us exploded into applause as the hat finished it's song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became completely still once more.

"So we only have to try that hat on!" I heard Ron whisper and I caned my neck once more to see him behind me. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!"

Harry and I smiled weakly. Truly, trying on the hat was a whole lot better than having to do a spell in front of the whole school. However, I kinda wished we could have tried on the hat without everyone watching. To me, the hat didn't seem to be asking too much, but it was a lot to me at the moment since I didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of what it had song of at this very second. I wished the hat could have mentioned a house for people who felt sick to their stomach, that would have been the one for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Professor McGonagall stepping forward with a long roll of parchment in her hand.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," She said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl with a pink face and blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line, put the hat on her head, which fell down right over her eyes, and sat down. There was a moments pause-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry and I saw the ghoat of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw as well, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry and I could see Ron's hulirious older twin brothers cat-calling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was my imagination, after all Harry and I had heard about Slytherin, but I thought the whole lot looked very unpleasant.

I was starting tp feel indefinitely sick now. I remembered back at school when Harry and I had been picked for teams during gym class. Both he and I had always been picked last, not really because neither of us weren't any good, but mainly because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked either of us.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

As things continued, I began to noticed that each dicesion differed. Sometimes, the hat shouted out the house instantly, but at other times, it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy standing in front of me in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole 60 seconds before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stood and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted. Ron groaned behind me.

Harry tapped my shoulder and whispered the horrible thought that had suddenly struck him. I had had horrible thoughts flashing through my mind since the first name had been called because I was so nervous. As I listened, I began to think the same as Harry. What if neither of us was chosen at all? What if both of us just sat up there with the hat over our eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off our heads and said there had obviously been a mistake and that we'd better get back on the train.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell on his way to the stool. The hat took a very long time to decide with Neville. When it had finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off to the table still wearing the hat. He jogged back amid peals of laughter to give the hat to "MacDougal, Morag." who was next.

Malfoy swaggered forward when it was his turn to be sorted and he instantly got his wish: the hat had barely touched his head when it screeched, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy joined his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking very full of himself.

Not many people were left to be sorted.

"Moon"... "Nott"... "Parkinson"..., then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"..., then "Perks, Sally-Anne"...until finally-

"Potter, Harry!"

My heart jumped in to my throat as my best friends name was called. My hand grabbed his and squeezed reassuringly before I quickly released him. Harry smiled back at me as he stepped forward. Whispers suddenly erupted throughout the Great Hall, almost like little hissing fires.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter? Is Cheyenne Power with him?"

I could feel eyes boring in to the back of my head. My face heated up and I dropped my face to look at my shoes. I lifted my head some to watch Harry with the hat over his eyes. It seemed as though the world had slowed down and each second dragged by. I chewed my bottom lip until it felt like it was on fire as I threaded my fingers together before me. I watched Harry, my mind whirling with different thoughts. My heart twisted at the thought that Harry would probably get in, but I wouldn't and I'd be sent back to the Dursleys, having to attend school by myself. That thought was worse than my being put in a different house; at least then I'd still be here and be able to see and speak with Harry.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat's shout echoed throughout the hall and relief swelled in my heart. I watched Harry shakingly take off the hat and stumble towards the Gryffindor table. I smiled after him. The relief on his face was so easily read off his features that it made my nervousness lessen. he was getting one of the loudest cheers yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook Harry's hand, while the Weasley twins shouted in chorus, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" I saw Harry sit opposite the ghost in the ruff we'd seen earlier.

Now, there were only four people, including myself, left to be sorted.

"Power, Cheyenne!"

The sound of my name made my heart jump in to my throat once more and I gulped, climbing up to the stool. Like Harry, once my name had been called, whispers erupted all around the hall.

"Cheyenne Power! The P team is here at Hogwarts!"

"I wonder which house she'll be in?"

"She'll probably be put in the same house as Potter."

I sat on the stool and felt relief when the hat's brim fell over my eyes.

"Well well well, the powerful duo. You and Potter are very similair, you've both difficult, very difficult. Hm, plently of courage, as well. You have a very strong mind. Very kind heart and talent, a thirsty to prove you wish to learn. Very interesting indeed...Hm, I can see you are well connected with Potter and you don't wish to be seperated from him. Now...where shall I place you... Hm, I think you would do well in Slytherin. What do you think?"

I felt my heart speed up, hitting against my ribcage like a jackhammer. A tingle ran throughout my body and I gulped. "No, not Slytherin...Not... Slytherin..." I thought with all my might.

"Hm, Potter thought the same thing. However, are you sure Power? You could be really great you know, it's here in the depths of your mind. And no doubt Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness-no? Well, if you're totally sure, it may as well be GRYFFINDOR!"

I felt my whole body relax instantly at the last word the hat shouted out to the rest of the hall. I took off the hat and put it back on the stool before I made my way towards the Gryffindor table. I felt so relieved to not be seperated from Harry and put in Slytherin. Another cheer erupted in the hall, almost as loud as Harry's had been. I practically ran towards the table, Harry standing to meet me. I hugged him in relieve as someone clapped me on the back. The twins were shouting again, but this time, it was, "We got the P team! We got the P team!" I took the seat next to Harry, nodding to the ghost with the ruff, who patted my arm. I got the feeling of someone splashing me with Arctic icewater.

I could properly see the High Table now. At the end nearest us sat Hagrid, who caught our eye and gave us both a thumps-up. Harry and I grinned back. And there, in the very center of the High Table, in a very large golden chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. I recognized him instantly from the card Harry and I had gotten from the Chocolate Frog on our train ride here. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the Great Hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry nudged me, pointing out Professor Quirrell to me, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He looked very peculiar in a large purple turban.

Three people remained to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy that was even taller than Ron, joined Harry and I at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," Became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. he looked very sick as his face had turned a pale shade of green. Harry and I crossed our fingers under the table and a second later, the hat had hollered, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry and I clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor as Ron collapsed into the empty space Harry had left for him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," Percy Weasley said pompously across Harry. "Zabini, Blaise," who was sorted last, was named a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll then and took the Sorting Hat away.

Harry and I looked down at the table to examine our golden plates and goblets. My stomach growled loudly, announcing for the first time how hungry I was. I felt my face heat up as some of the other students around me turned their attention on me from the loud rumble of my stomach. I lay my head on the table in embarressement as Harry rubbed my back soothingly. The Pumpkin Pastries we'd shared with Ron on the train seemed like ages ago.

Harry prodded my shoulder and whispered to take my head off the table because Dumbledore had stood to speak. I lifted my head and turned to look at the High Table. Albus Dumbledore had indeed gotten to his feet. He was beaming at us students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have please him more than to see us all here.

"Welcome!" he began. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Thank you!"

The headmaster sat back down. Everyone around us clapped and cheered. I looked at Harry; neither of us knew weither to laugh or not.

"I-is he-is he a bit mad?" I heard Harry ask Percy uncertainly. I turned my head to look at both boys as Percy answered.

"Mad?" Percy said airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry, Cheyenne?"

My and Harry's mouths fell open. The dishes in front of us were now piled high with food. Neither of us had ever seen so many things we likes to eat on one table: roast chicken, pork chops, bacon and steak, mashed potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, corn, carrots, gravy, and ketchup.

The Dursleys had never really starved Harry and I, but we'd never been allowed to eat as much as we like. Dudley had always taken anything that either Harry or I really really wanted, even if it made him sick for a week. Harry and I piled our plates with a little bit of everything besides the peppermint and began to eat. It was all very delicious.

"That does look good," The ghost in the ruff said sadly, watching Harry cutting his steak. I swallowed the mashed potatoes in my mouth and felt bad for eating while the ghost, seemingly, could not. Harry looked at me before we returned our attention to the ghost.

"Ca-can't you-?"

"I haven't eaten in nearly four hundred years," the ghost said. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your sevice. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" Ron spoke up suddenly, making me jump. "My brothers told me about you-you're Nearly Headless Nick!'

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-" The ghost began stiffly, but the sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nichloas looked extremely peeved, as if our little chat wasn't going at all the way he'd wanted it to go.

"Like this," He said irritably. The ghost seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Obviously, someone had tried to behead him, but had not truly done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on our faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed and said, "So-new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable-he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry and I looked at each other again before we looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible looking ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was sitting right next to Malfoy who, Harry and I were pleased to see, didn't look really pleased with his seating arrangements.

"Uh, how did he get covered in blood?" Seamus asked with great interest.

"Hm, never really asked," Nearly Headless Nick said delicately.

When everyone had had as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the platters and plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. It was another moment before the desserts appearead. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor invented, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding...

As Harry and I helped ours to some of the desserts, the talk turned to our families.

"I'm half and half," We heard Seamus say. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

Everyone else laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked, turning his attention to him.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," Neville said, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off guard and force some magic out of me-he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned-but nothing really happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came around for dinner one night and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. I didn't get hurt but bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. All of them were really pleased, Gran started crying she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here-they thought I might not be magic enough to come to Hogwarts, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased me brought me my toad."

On my and Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons. I listened in silently to see what I could learn of our scehdules. Hermione was saying that she hoped we'd start right away because there was so much for us to learn. She continued on to say that she was extremely interested in Transfiguration, the class in which we would be turning something into something else. I was really interested in that class too, that and Potions. I'd heard that Transfiguration was supposed to be very difficult. Percy answered that we'd be starting small, like turning matches in to needles and that sort of thing.

I turned my head to return my attention to Harry, who had leaned his head lightly on my shoulder. I saw that warm, sleepy feeling dull his green eyes and I began to feel the same. Harry and I looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet at the end of the table. Near the center, Professor McGonagall was talking with Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with extrememly greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and very sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hooked-nosed teacher looked right past Professor Quirrell's turban straight in to Harry's, then my, eyes. A sharp, white-hot pain flashed across the scar on my forehead.

I yelped softly as Harry said, "Ouch!" And clapped a hand to his head. I only winched and slowly brought my fingers to the lightning scar on my forehead, rubbing at it softly.

"What is it? Are you two alright?" Percy asked us, turning to face us with worried eyes.

"I-it's nothing. We're fine." Harry answered for both of us as I nodded mutely in agreement.

The pain had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. However, it was hard to shake off the feeling that both Harry and I had gotten from the teacher's look-a feeling that that teacher didn't like neither of us at all.

"Uh, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry and I asked Percy.

"Oh, you both know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous tonight. That's Professor Snape. He's the Potion's teacher here, but he never wanted to really teach Potions-everyone knows he's been after Quirrell's job for years. He knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Harry and I looked at each other darkly before we turned to watch Snape for a while. However, Snape didn't look at us again the rest of dinner.

At last, with the desserts disappearing as well, Professor Dumbledore climbed to his feet again. The whole hall fell silent.

"Ahem, I would just like to have a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

"First years please note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the Weasley twins direction.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used in the corridors between classes."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of this term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry gave a small laugh, but he was one of the few that did. I didn't laugh at all, not finding it in the slightest funny.

"He's not serious?" I heard him mutter to Percy.

"He must be," Percy responded, frowning at Dumbledore. "It is odd though since he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go anywhere-the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried. Harry and I noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave a small flick of his wand, as thought trying to get a fly or other insect off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above our heads and twisted itself, almost snakelike, to make words.

"Now, everyone pick their favorite tune," Dumbledore said, "and off we go!"

And the whole school bellowed together:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn unil our brains all rot."

Everyone finished at different times. Harry finished before me and I finished about a minute after. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," He said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Percy led us Gryffindor first years through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. I held Harry's hand, helping to keep him up. He said his legs had turned to lead again because he was tired and full of food. I was tired too and felt nice and full, but I was still a little more awake and I was able to help lead him easily through the crowds. I was still awake enough to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed after us as we passed. I was even surprised when Percy led us through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, twice. We climbed more staircases, everyone yawning and dragging their feet. Even I was beginning to feel tired and I was just wondering how much farther we had to go when we came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of us and as Percy took a step towards them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to us. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice to speak to this ghost, "Peeves-show yourself."

A loud, rather rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, was the answer.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide, smiling mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" He said with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He made a sudden swoop at us and we all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" Percy barked angrily.

Peeves stuck his tongue out at Percy and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. We heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You'll want to watch out for Peeves," Percy said as we set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can really control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Ah, here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a extremely fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" She asked.

"Caput Draconis," Percy replied, at which the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. We all scrambled through it-Neville needing a leg up-and found ourselves in the Gryffindor common room, a round, cozy room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed us girls through one door to our dormitory and the boys through another. I gave Harry's hand a squeeze and let go, wishing him a goodnight before I followed the other girls. At the top of a spiral staircase-where we were obviously in one of the towers-we found our beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Our trunks had already been brought up. Hermione and I talked silently as we pulled on our night clothes, trading stories of our lifes and things that interested us. She and I became quick friends as we found we had things in common. We talked for a while before we went to bed.

"Good night, Cheyenne. Maybe in the morning we can walk to class together." Hermione said as she covered herself. I smiled and nodded, saying I'd like that as I covered myself as well and we both pulled our curtains shut. It felt strange not having Harry in the same room as we had back at the Dursley's, but I was glad I didn't have to sleep alone. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I must have eaten too much at the feast, because I had a very queer dream. I was standing with Harry, who, strangely enough, was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban. The turban kept talking to us and whenever Harry or I tried to get it off his head, he kept saying it was getting heavier. It kept saying that we should transfer to Slytherin, but we kept saying we didn't want to be in Slytherin. That made it heavier. We tried again and again to pull it off, but it tightened painfully as well as getting heavier. Then, there was Malfoy, laughing at us as we struggled with the turban. Suddenly, Malfoy changed in to the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold. A sudden burst of green light jolted me awake, sweating and shaking.

I got comfortable again, turning over on my other side and fell asleep again. When I awoke the next morning, I didn't remember the dream at all.


	8. The Potions Master

**Chapter Eight**

**The Potion's Master**

"Over there, look."

"Where?"

"There, next to the tall kid with the red hair/ next to the girl with the bushy hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see their face?"

"Did you see their scar?"

Whispers followed Harry and I from the moment we left our dormitory, weither we were walking together with Ron or if we were walking seperately. Seperately, Harry walked with Ron while I walked with Hermione. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tip-toe to get a look at us, or they would double back to pass us in the corridors again, staring. Both Harry and I wished they wouldn't because he and I were trying to concentrate on finding our way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickey ones; some that even led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely or tickles them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't even doors at all, but solid walls just pretending to be doors. It was also very hard to remember where anything was because it all just seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other and Harry and I were sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help us much, either. It always came as a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you'd been trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick, however, was always more than happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

There was someone even worse than Peeves, if that were even remotely possible, and that was the caretaker, Argus Filch. When they met up with me at our first class, Harry and Ron told me that they had already managed to get on Mr. Filch's bad side, on our very first morning here! Apparently, Filch had found them trying to force their way through a door that, unluckily for them, turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't even believe them when they said they were lost, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who, luckily, was passing at that time.

Filch also had a sidekick who helped him keep an eye on the students, his cat by the name of Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes that matched that of her owners. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of this cat, put just one little toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch apparently knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone, well, excepted perhaps the Weasley twins, and could pop up as suddently as the ghosts. All the students hated him and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There were a lot more things to magic, as Harry and I quickly realized, then just waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

First, we had to study the night skies through our telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week we went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch by the name of Professor Sprout. There, we learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and we found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class of them all was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been a very old wizard when he'd fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up in the morning to teach, leaving his body behind. Binns droned on and on while we scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball easily mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, our Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to just see over his desk. At the start of our first class he took roll call, and as soon as he reached my and Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of our sight.

Professor McGonagall was, again, different. Harry and I had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave us a talking-to the moment we sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn here at Hogwarts," She'd said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then, she changed her desk into a pig and back again. We were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but we soon realized we weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a very long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger and I had managed to make any changes to our matches; Professor McGonagall showed the rest of the class how they had gone all silver and pointy and gave the both of us a rare smile.

The class we'd all really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told us, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but we weren't too sure we believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking to us about the weather; for another, we noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry and I were both very relieved to find out that we weren't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like us, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They both finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once. Hermione and I were already sitting at the Gryffindor table, eating and talking. I greeted them happily, as did Hermione. Ron ignored her as he sat down. Harry greeted us both and sat down across from us, giving Hermione an apologetic smile on Ron's behalf.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured some of the sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron said. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's really true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," Harry and I said together. Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving us a huge pile of homework the day before. Ron gave us both a look.

"Blimey, it's creepy how you two do that. You're not even related." He said, biting in to his toast. Harry and I looked at each other and shrugged; we'd heard others say that before but we sometimes forgot we did it. I passed Harry the pumpkin juice and took a bite of my pancakes.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry and I had already gotten used to this by now, but it had given both of us a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast. They'd circled the tables until they'd see their owners and had dropped letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig and Elon hadn't brought Harry and I anything so far. They'd both sometimes fly in to nibble our ears and have a bit of our toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, the black and white owls fluttered down between the marmalade, sugar bowl and pumpkin juice jug, both dropping a letter addressed to Harry and I between our plates. Harry picked up the letter and tore it open at once. I leaned in closer, my head leaning on Harry's shoulder to read the letter with him. It was written in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry and Cheyenne,

I know you both get Friday afternoons off, so would you both like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig and Elon.

Hagrid

Harry borrowed a quill from Ron, scribbling 'Yes, please, see you later,' on the back of Hagrid's note, and sent Hedwig and Elon off again.

It was lucky that Harry and I had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson we had with the Slytherins turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to us so far.

At the start-of-term banquet , Harry and I had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked us. By the end of the first Potions lesson, we knew we'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike us-he hated us.

Potion lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started our class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at my and Harry's names.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "The P team, Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power. Our new-celebrities."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." He began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but we caught every word-like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering caulderon with it's shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-if you aren't as big a bunch of dunerheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence followed his little speech. I saw Harry and Ron exchange looks with their eyebrows raised. Hermione was on the edge of her seat next to me and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly. I jumped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

I looked at Harry, seeing the completely stumped look on his face; Hermione's hand had shot straight into the air.

"I don't know, sir,"Harry admitted.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut-fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Harry didn't look like he had the faintest idea what a bezoar even was. He was trying hard not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter. I looked at the three, glaring angrily, but they didn't seem to notice.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

I turned my head, directing my glare at our teacher now. I could see that Harry was forcing himself to keep looking straight in to Snape's cold eyes. I knew that Harry had looked through our books at the Dursleys', but I thought it was unfair that he expected him to have memorized everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsband?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," Harry said quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why not ask her?"

A few people laughed; I saw Harry catch Seamus' eye and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," He snapped at Hermione.

I frowned, "Sir, that's not fair, Harry didn't know the answer to any of those questions. Instead of humiliating him, then call on someone that does know. Hermione and I probably knew those answers. Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion that can be extremely powerful, called the Daught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it can save one from most posions. Monkshood and wolfsbane, are the same plant and can also be called aconite." I said, crossing my arms over my chest angrily.

Snape turned his black eyes on me and narrowed them, "Why are you all staring! You should be writing this information down!" He snapped. I pursed my lips as I looked at Hermione, who smiled softly.

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And 10 points shall be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter, Power."

Things didn't improve for us Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put us all into pairs and set us to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching us weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on our stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled, clearing the spilled potion away with a wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You-Potter-why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

That was really unfair for Harry. I opened my mouth at the same time he did so we could argue back, but Hermione stopped me.

"Don't push it, Cheyenne, I hear Snape can turn very nasty when pervoked."

As we climbed the steps out of the dungeons an hour later, my and Harry's mind was racing and our spirits were low. We'd both lost eleven points for Gryffindor in our first week-why did Snape hate us so much?

"Cheer up, you two," Ron said. "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Hey, can I come and meet Hagrid with you both?"

At five to three we left the castle and made our way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked we heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang- back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let us in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

:Make yerselves at home," Hagrid said, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another, Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke our teeth, but Harry, Ron and I pretended to be enjoying them as we told Hagrid all about our first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's, then my, knee and drooled all over our robes.

Harry, Ron and I were delighted to hear Hagrid call filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her- Filch puts her up to it."

Harry and I took turns telling Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron and Hermione, told us not to worry about it, that Snape hardly liked any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate us."

"Rubbish!" Hagrid said. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry and I couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet either of our eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot- great with animals."

Harry and I looked at each other, wondering if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. I leaned over to see what it was. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

Gringotts Break-In Latest

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblings today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Harry and I remembered Ron telling us on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" Harry and I said, looking up at the giant, "that Gringotts break-in happened on Harry's birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it now, Hagrid definitely didn't meet my or Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered both of us another rock cake. Harry and I read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could really call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry, Ron and I walked back to the castle for dinner, our pockets weighed down with rock cakes we'd been too polite to refuse, Harry and I thought that none of the lessons we'd had so far had given us as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry and I?


	9. The Midnight Duel

**Chapter Nine**

**The Midnight Duel**

Harry and I had never, ever believed we would meet a boy we hated more than Dudley, but that was before we met Draco Malfoy. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so we didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, we didn't until we spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made us all groan. Flying lessons would be starting Thursday- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." I sighed in agreement.

Harry and I had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that either of you'll make a fool of yourselves," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizardling families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big arguement with Dean Thomas, who shared his and Harry's dormitory, about soccor. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry soon told me that he had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of the West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Secretly, Harry and I felt she'd had a very good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something we couldn't learn by heart out of a book- not that she hadn't tried, though. As breakfast on Thursday, she bored us all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging onto her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang onto his broomstick later, but everyone else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Neither Harry nor I had had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed us a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh . . ." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, ". . . you've forgotten something. . ."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. I knew they were both half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was here in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

At three-thirty that afternon, me, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for our first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry and I had heard Fred and George complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for? She barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry and I glanced at each other, then at our brooms. Mine looked really old with a dull handle and bristles that stuck up in all directions.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch called from the front, "and say 'Up!' "

"UP!" We all shouted.

My broom jumped right into my hand, but it was one of the few that did. Harry's had jumped right into his hand as well, but as I looked around, I could see our friends weren't having as much luck as us. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's wasn't even moving. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, I thought; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount out brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting our grips. Harry, Ron and I were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground, hard," Madam Hooch said. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"

But Neville, nervous, jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had even touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. We could see his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -

WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," We heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Poor Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati Patil snapped.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbotom?" Pansy Parkinson said, who was a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Hey, it's better than liking pasty faced little boys who think they're better than everyone else because of their parents position in wizard society." I said back, glaring at Pansy, who narrowed her eyes at me.

"Look!" Malfoy interrupted, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," Harry and I said quickly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smirked nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"

"Give it here!" We yelled, but Malfoy leapt onto his broomstick and took off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak, he called, "Come and get it, Powter!"

Harry and I grabbed our brooms.

"No!" Hermione shouted. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll both get us all into trouble."

Harry and I ignored her. Blood pounded in our ears. We mounted our brooms and kicked hard against the ground and up, up we soared; air rushed through our hair, and our robes whipped out behind us - and in a rush of fierce joy we realized we'd found something we could do without being taught - this was easy, this was wonderful. We pulled our broomsticks up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps from some of the girls back on the ground, followed by an admiring whoop from Ron.

Turning our broomsticks sharply, we faced Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called. "or we'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" Malfoy said, forcing a sneer, but looking worried.

We knew, somehow, what to do. Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and he shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. As Malfoy only just got out of the way, I shot toward him, flashing a hand out to grab the Remembrall while he was still confused. He swerved out of the way and I pulled back on my broom to slow down before turning it sharply to face Malfoy again, holding it steady. A few people below clapped.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.

"Yeah, it's two against one now," I said.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

We saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. Leaning forward, Harry and I pointed our broom handles down - next second we were gathering speed in a steep dive, raing the ball - wind whistled in our ears, mingling with the screams of people watching - Harry stretched his hand out - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time for us to pull our brooms straight. He toppled off his broom, gently pushing me off mine as we rolled onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safety in his fist. We smiled at each other gratefully, until -

"HARRY POTTER AND CHEYENNE POWER!"

Our hearts sank faster than we'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward us. We got to our feet, trembling.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses kept flashing furiously, " - how dare you both - might have broken both your necks -"

"It wasn't their fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil -"

"But Malfoy -"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, Power, follow me, now."

Harry and I caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as we left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. We were going to be expelled, we just knew it. We wanted to say something to defend ourselves, but there seemed to be something wrong with our voices. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at us; we had to jog to keep up. Now we'd done it. We hadn't even last two weeks. We'd be packing our bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when we turned up on their doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to us. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry and I trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking us to Dumbledore. We thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps we could be Hagrid's assistants. Our stomachs twisted as we imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards while we stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? Wood? We thought, glancing at each other, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on us?

However, Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking really confused.

"Follow me, you three," Professor McGonagall said, and we marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry and I. I shuffled self consiously closer to Harry, my face warming up at the older boys stare.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed us into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the three of us.

"Potter, Power, this is Oliver Wood. Wood - I have found you a Seeker and his Helper!"

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," Professor McGonagall said crisply. "These two are naturals. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter, Power?"

Harry and I nodded silently. We didn't have a clue what was going on, but we didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to our legs.

"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive and she stayed with him through the whole thing, supporting him from the side," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch themselves. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter, Power?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"They're just the build for a Seeker and his Helper, too," Wood said, now walking around Harry and I and staring at us. "Both light - speedy - we'll have to get them a decent broom each, Professor - a couple of Nimbus Two Thousands or some Cleansweep Sevens, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better ea than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks. . . ."

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry and I.

"I want to hear you're both training hard, or I may change my mind about punishing you two."

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Your fathers would have been proud," she said. "They were excellent Quidditch players themselves."

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime. Harry and I had just finished telling Ron what had happened when we'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Seeker and his Helper?" he said. "But first years never - you two must be the youngest house players in about -"

"- a century," Harry and I finished as we shoveled pie into our mouths. The afternoon excitement had made us particularly hungry. "Wood told us."

Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at the two of us.

"We start training next week," Harry said. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Fred and George Weasley came striding into the hall, spotted Harry and I, and hurried over.

"Well done," George said in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too - Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," Fred said. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You both must be good, Harry, Cheyenne, Wood was almost skipping when he told us." He smirked at me.

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred winked at me as he and George left. I blushed lightly in embarrassment. No sooner had the twins disappeared than someone far less welcome appeared: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Powter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you." Harry said coolly as I smirked in agreement. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you both on anytime on my own," Malfoy said. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course they have," Ron said, wheeling around. "I'm their second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Harry and I looked at Ron.

"What is a wizard's duel?" We asked. "And what do you mean, you're our second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," Ron said casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on my and Harry's faces, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you two and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. None of you know enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you two to refuse, anyway."

"And what if we wave our wands and nothing happens?"

"Throw them away and punch him in the nose," Ron suggested.

"Excuse me."

We all looked up. It was Hermione.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" Ron asked.

Hermione ignored him and spoke instead to Harry and I.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you two and Malfoy were saying -"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"- and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," Harry said as I opened my mouth to say something.

"Good-bye," Ron said.

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, I thought, laying awake much later as I waited for some of the other girls in my dormitory to fall asleep. I hadn't seen Hermione down in the common room earlier and wasn't sure if she was already in her bed asleep or not. Ron had spent the whole evening giving Harry and I advice for our duel, such as "If he tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them." There was a very good chance we were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry and I felt we were pushing our luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy's sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness - this was our big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. We couldn't miss it.

I checked my watch to see it was half-past eleven and quietly slid out of bed, being careful not to make too much noise to alert my roommates. Slipping on my dark red bathrobe, I put my wand in the front right pocket and crept from the dormitory, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. I walked over to the spiral staircase that led to the boys dormitories and waited for several moments before I was joined by Harry and Ron. We crept across the common room amd we'd almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest us, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry and Cheyenne, espiecally you, Cheyenne."

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione, wearing her pink bathroom and a frown.

"You!" Ron said furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped. "Percy - he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this. Cheyenne, you're smart enough to know how dangerous and stupid this is! And if Harry cared about you, he won't put you in this type of position." She narrowed her eyes at me and I flinched, moving behind Harry, who wrapped an arm around me, glaring back at Hermione.

"Come on," he said to Ron as he took my hand. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole, helping me through.

Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at us like an angry goose.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points Cheyenne and I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -"

But what we were, we didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," Ron said. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

We hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with us.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not."

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up. You'll back me up, right Cheyenne?"

"You're got some nerve -" Ron said loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" Harry said sharply. "I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" Ron breathed, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as we crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get into bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" Harry and I asked.

"Fine," Neville said, showing us. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good - well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later -"

"Don't leave me!" Neville said, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use that Curse of the Bogies, but Harry quickly hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned us all forward.

We flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry and I expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but we were lucky. We sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. We edged along the walls, keeping our eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry and I took out our wands in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made us jump. Harry and I had only just raised our wands when we heard someone speak - and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might e lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at us four to follow him as quickly as possible; we scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped around the corner when we heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," we heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harry and I mouthed to the others and, petrified, we began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. We could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run - he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the five of us sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following - we swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry and I in the lead, wihout any idea where we were or where we were going - we ripped through a tapestry and found ourselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near our Charms classroom, which we knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. I had my back against the wall, clutching at a stitch in my side. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I - told - you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I - told - you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," Ron said. "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry and I. "You two do realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you - Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Harry and I looked at each other, knowing she was probably right, but he didn't look like he was going to tell her that.

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. We hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of us.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of us and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves - please - you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," Peeves said in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," Ron snapped, taking a swipe at Peeves - big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, we ran for our lives, right to the end of the corridor where we slammed into a door - and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as we pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

We could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open - we piled through it, shut it quickly, and while Hermione, Ron and Harry pressed their ears against it to listen, Neville and I looked around the room curiously. But, we weren't in a room, we were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor and now I know why it was forbidden.

I was looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that fillwed the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads with three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in our direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at us and I knew the only reason it hadn't already attacked was that our sudden appearance had taken it by surprise.

Fear running up and down my spine, I started gently tugging on Harry's hand and Neville had started tugging Hermione's robe.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay - get off, Neville!" Neville had even started tugging at Harry's bathrobe sleeve for the last minute, "What?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione turned around and saw exactly what it was we needed to show them. At that time, the dog was quickly getting over its' surprise and there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

We suddenly fell backwards as Harry threw the door open, then slammed it closed once we were all through. We ran, almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for us somewhere else, because we didn't see him anywhere, but we hardly cared - all we wanted to do was put as much space as possible between us and that monster. We didn't stop running until we'd reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at our bathrobes hanging off our shoulders and our flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that - pig snout, pig snout," Harry panted, and the portrait swung forward. We all scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of us said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as though he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Ron said finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had gotten both her breath and her bad temper back again.

"You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" She snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested from his position on the couch next to me. "I wasn't looking at its feet. I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She stood, glaring at us.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her with a gaping mouth.

"No, we don't mind," he said. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?"

But Hermione had given Harry and I something else to think about as we separated for bed and climbed the stairs to our own dormitories. The dog was guarding something. . . .What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide - except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harry and I had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.


	10. Halloween

**Chapter Ten**

**Halloween**

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry, Ron and I were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Harry, Ron and I thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and we were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harry and I filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and we spend a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," Ron said.

"Or both," Harry and I said.

But as all we knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, we didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry, Ron and I, but to them she was such a bossy know-it-all, the boys say it as an added bonus. I, however, was taking this rather hard as I had considered Hermione a close friend. Harry would always be my closest of friends, but I had never had a close girl friend and not having one now was harder than it had been while I was at the Muggle schools. I was so worried about that that I didn't want to take any part in the revenge Harry and Ron wanted to take out on Malfoy for nearly getting us expelled. To their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a couple of long, thin packages each carried by six large screech owls. Harry and I were just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large percel, and we were both amazed when the owls soared down and dropped them right in front of us, throwing our bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of Harry's parcel.

Harry ripped open the letter, me leaning in to read it with him, which was lucky, because it said:

**DO NOT OPEN THESE PARCELS AT THE TABLE.**

_They contains your new Nimbus Two Thousands, but I don't_

_want everyone knowing you've both got broomsticks or they'll_

_all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the_

_Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Harry had a hard time containing his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand each!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

We left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap our broomsticks in private before our first class, but halfway across the entrance hall we found the way upstairs blocked by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized Harry's package and felt it.

"That's a broomstick!" He said, thrusting it back at Harry and seizing mine to feel it as well before thrusting it back at me with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face, "They're both broomsticks! Oh, you're both in for it this time, Powter, first years aren't allowed broomsticks."

Ron couldn't stop himself.

"They aren't any old broomsticks," he said, "they're Nimbus Two Thousands. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at us. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Numbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I supposed you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could retort, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, lady and gentlemen?" he squeaked.

"Potter and Power've been sent broomsticks, Professor," Malfoy said quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," Professor Flitwick said, beaming at Harry and I. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Mr. Potter and Miss Power. And what model are they?"

"Nimbus Two Thousands, sir," Harry and I said, fighting back our laughter at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that we've got them," we added.

Harry, Ron and I headed upstairs, smothering our laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as we reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall we wouldn't be on the team. . . ."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind us. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the packages in my and Harry's hands.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" Harry said.

"Yes, don't stop now," Ron saide, "it's doing us so much good."

I smiled faintly, but Hermione seemed to ignore it as she glared at the boys and then marched away with her nose in the air.

Despite that though, Harry and I had a lot of trouble keeping our minds on our lessons that day. They kept wandering up to the dormitory where our new broomsticks were lying under Harry's bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where we'd be learning to play that night. We bolted down our dinners that evening without noticing what we were eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap our Nimbus Two Thousands at last.

"Wow," Ron sighed, as the broomsticks rolled onto Harry's bedspread.

Even Harry and I, neither of us knowing anything about the different brooms, thought they looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, each with a mahogany handle, they both had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the tops.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harry and I left the castle together and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. We'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry and I of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry and I mounted our broomsticks and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling - we swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field, sometimes racing each other or playing little games of tag. Our Nimbus Two Thousands turned wherever we wanted at our lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, Power, come down!"

Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry and I landed next to him.

"Very nice," Wood said, his eyes glinting. "I see what McGonagall meant. . . you two really are naturals. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll both be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," Wood said. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven, or eight when a team has a Helper, players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Harry and I repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccor ball.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," Wood said. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harry and I recited. "So - that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" Wood asked curiously.

"Never mind," Harry said quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper - I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," Harry and I said, both of us determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So, what are they for?" We pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," Wood said. "Take these."

He handed each of us a small club, both of which looked like short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you both what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

He showed Harry and I two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. We noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned us. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry's face. Harry swung at it with his bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air - it zoomed around our heads, nearly pelting me in the head until Harry wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me out of the way. The Bludger than shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why we have two Beaters on each team - the Weasley twins are ours - it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So - think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Harry and I reeled off.

"Very good," Wood said, smiling.

"Er - have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harry asked as he let me go, hoping he sounded offhand.

"Never at Hogwars. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last members of the team are the Seeker and his Helper. That's you two. And neither of you need to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers -"

"- unless they crack our heads open."

"Don't worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers - I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves."

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," Wood said, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it while his Helper supports him by trying to distract the other Seeker and protect their Seeker. The Seeker and the Helper have got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled do much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages - I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep."

"Well, that's it - any questions?"

Harry and I shook our heads. We understood what we had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," Wood said, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you two out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he, Harry and I were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch.

Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and we couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year," Wood said happily as we trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you both turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

Perhaps it was because we were now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all our homework, but neither Harry nor I could hardly believe it when we realized that we'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. Our lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that we had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning we woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought we were ready to start making objects fly, something we had all been dying to try since we'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flickwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan, I was paired with Neville, who'd been trying to catch my or Harry's eye, and Ron got paired with Hermione. It was hard to tell which of them was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to any of us since the day my and Harry's broomsticks had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked from his usual perch on top of his pile of books. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

A lot of people were having great difficulty with it. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the deskstop. Seamus got impatient enough to prod the feather with his wand and accidently set fire to it - Harry had to put it out with his hat. I wasn't even trying to get my feather floating as I helped Neville try to make it float by fixing the way he spoke and the way he held his wand.

At the next table, Ron wasn't having much more luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," We heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You know, she's right Ron, it'll help you..." I said softly, smiling weakly at the boy, who glared a me. Hermione smiled softly at me.

"You two do it, then, if you're both so clever," Ron snarled.

Nodding at each other, Hermione and I rolled our sleeves up some, flicked our wands, and said together, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Each of our feathers rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above our heads.

"Oh, well done!" Profesor Flitwick cried, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger and Miss Power've done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry and I as we pushed our way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly. She even got you started on being a smarty-pants, Cheyenne."

Someone knocked into Harry, causing him to bump into me as they hurried past. It was Hermione. Harry said she had tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" Ron said, looking a little uncomfortable though. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

I glared, "I'm her friend!" I said, seethingly.

Ron shifted uncomfortably, but didn't say anything.

Hermione didn't turn up for our next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On our way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, we overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked even more awkward at this. (Good, he should be for making Hermione cry!) I thought, still feeling worried for her and wanting to go and comfort her, but deciding not to at the moment as I just followed the boys into the Great Hall.

Inside, a thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. This all seemed to put Hermione out of the boy minds, but I kept thinking back to her, hoping dearly that she was all right.

While Harry and Ron talked and enjoyed the food, my stomach kept turning over and over, making me feel sick with worry. Finally deciding to just skip the feast and see Hermione, I got up and slipped silently away, heading for the door. Just as I was stepping out, Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror etched on his face. Everyone turned to stare as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

Then he sank to the floor in a dead faint.

I didn't stick around to see what happened as I whirled around and took off across the hall, sprinted up the staircase and dashed down the first corridor I came to. Worry for Hermione battled with the fear in me as thoughts raced through my head. Who would let a troll into the castle like this? Would they do it as a Halloween prank? And most importantly, why? I didn't have the answers to any of these questions, but I did know one thing: I needed to get to Hermione and I needed to do it quickly before that troll found its' way out of the dungeons and actually hurt someone.

Skidding around a corner, I sprinted down the next corridor, stopping when I thought I heard someone. I hid behind a nearby suit of armor, peeking out to see who it was. The quick footsteps I heard approached, getting louder as the person drew nearer. Snape passed my hiding place quickly, his black robes bellowing behind him. I ducked lower, watching him hurry past without even looking around at his surroundings. He turned a corner and I slipped from behind the suit of armor, sliding quickly down the corridor after him. What was Snape doing here while the rest of the teachers were, my guess was, down in the dungeons? The new thought whirled around my head with the others, but I quickly pushed the thoughts away and focused on the task at hand at the moment. Going down the opposite corridor, I sprinted as quickly as I could toward the end of it.

A sudden rank smell clogged my nose and made my eyes water painfully. Covering my nose quickly with my sleeve, I quickly choose the route that moved away from the smell and made my way toward a wide door at the very end. Slipping inside, I found myself in the girls' bathroom. In the every end stall, I could hear soft crying and I knew it was probably Hermione. Quickly moving toward the stall, I softly knocked.

I heard someone sniffle, "Go away! I want to be alone!" Hermione said through the door. "Hermione, it's Cheyenne, and I came to get you. Listen I wanted to say I'm sorry for everything I did and that I hope we can be friends again. But, we can't really talk here, there's a troll in the castle and I need to get you back to the common room before it finds us," I paused to listen to what Hermione was going to say. There was a click and Hermione opened the door, looking up at me with red eyes.

"Cheyenne?" She said, wiping some tears away with her sleeve. I smiled softly at her, "Come on Hermione, we should go." I said softly, holding a hand out for her. She looked at me for a moment before taking my hand and I lead her toward the door. However, a figure stopped me and I froze.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor becaue it arms were so long. It stared down at us with small black eye, it's long ears wiggling as though it was trying to decide what to do with us. Through the sting in my nose from the smell and in my eyes from my tears, I heard a sudden sound that almost made my heart stop: someone had locked us in with the troll!

Looking up at the troll, I saw it raise it's club and, thinking quickly, I pushed Hermione out of the way and threw myself into the nearest stall just as the club came smashing down, creating a hole in the floor. The troll raised it's club again and bought it crashing through the stalls. I flattened myself to the floor, putting my arm up to protect my head. The weight of the wood hit my back and I flinched, but was careful not to move too much to draw the troll's attention. I could hear it grunt and move away. Lifting my head, I moved a couple pieces of wood just in time to see the troll advancing on Hermione, who was shrinking against the wall next to one of the sinks, looking about ready to faint. She was screaming now, the sounds echoing off the walls and ringing in my ears. Gritting my teeth, I pulled myelf out from under the pieces of wood, picking up a large piece of wood and throwing it at him.

"Oi! Pick on someone your own size!" I called, making the troll turn, blinking stupidly. It's mean little eye saw me, and it hesitated before lumbering toward me, lifting its club as it went. I stumbled backwards, giving a frightened scream as I fell backwards, just barely missing the club as it came down again.

"Cheyenne!" A familiar voice reached me and I looked up to see Harry and Ron standing near the door. "Confuse it!" He then said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped, looking over me. It lumbered around, continuing to blink stupidly, to see who had made the noise. It saw Harry and made for him instead, lifting its club as it went. I took the chance and ran over to Hermione, gently shaking her shoulder and trying to persude her to move.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Ron yelled from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning it ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it. He knelled down on Hermione's other side.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door with me, but she couldn't move, she wa still flat against the wall, her mouth open with horror.

The shouting and echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry turned away from Hermione and I, and did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arm around the troll's neck from behind. Apparently, the troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even he noticed when a long bit of wood was stuck up his nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

The troll howled in pain and started twisting and flailing its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with its club.

"Harry!" I called frightfully as Hermione sunk to the floor; Ron pulled out his own wand - not looking like he knew what to do, he raised his wand and said the first thing that came to his mind: Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club suddenly flew out of the troll's hand, rose high up into the air, turned slowly over - and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

I hurried over and helped Harry up. I could feel him shaking and hear the irregularity of his breathing. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he'd just done.

Hermione was the first to speak.

"Is it - dead?"

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh - troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four of us look up. We hadn't realized what a racket we'd been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall came bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Harry, Ron, and I. Neither Harry nor I had ever seen her look so angry. Her lips were white.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" Professor McGonagall said, cold fury in her voice. Harry and I looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry and I a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor while I held our teacher's gaze. We wished Ron would put his wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand while Harry and I looked at each other, surprised. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. While Cheyenne tried to get me out of danger, Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with it own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry, Ron and I tried to look as though this story wasn't new to us.

"Well - in that case. . ." Professor McGonagall said, staring at the four of us, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. I felt speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and yet here she was, pretending she had, to get us out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," Professor McGonagall said. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, Ron and I.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

We hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until we had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her and Chey," Harry reminded him.

We had reaced the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," we said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for us. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of us looking at each other, we all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But, from that moment on, Hermione Granger because Harry and Ron's friend, and she and I rekindled our friendship. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twleve-foot mountain troll is one of them.


	11. Quidditch

**Chapter Eleven**

**Quidditch**

As we entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs window defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry and I would be playing our first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, we would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harry and I play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapons, Harry and I should be kept, well, secret. But the news that we were playing Seeker and Helper had leaked out somehow, and neither of us knew which was worse - people telling us we'd be brilliant or people telling us they'd be running around underneath us holding a mattress.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. She and I helped him and Ron through all their homework, even with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making us do. She also lent us Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Harry and I learned that there were seven hundred way of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers and their Helpers were usually the smallet and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had even become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Ron and I had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer to the boys for it. The day before my and Harry's first Quidditch match the four of us were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. We were standing with our backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry and I noticed at once that Snape was limping. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I moved closer together to block the fire from view; we were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about our guilty faces caught Snape's eye and he limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reaon to tell us off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," Snape said. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away.

"I wonder what's wrong with his leg?" I said.

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," Ron said bitterly.

That evening, the Gryffindor common room was nosier than usual. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I sat together next to a window. Hermione and I were helping each other check Harry and Ron's homework. We would never let them copy, Hermione pointing out that they'd never learn if we did. However, by asking us to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

Harry and I felt restless. We wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take our minds off our nerves about tomorrow. Why should we be afraid of Snape? Getting up, we told Ron and Hermione we were going to ask Snape if we could have the book.

"Better you than me," they said together, but Harry and I had an idea that Snape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.

We made our way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. We knocked again. Nothing.

Perhaps Snape had left the book inside? It was worth a try. While Harry pushed the door open ajar, I made sure no one was watching before peering inside with him - a horrible scene met our eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry tried to shut the door quietly so we could leave, but -

"POTTER! POWER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry and I gulped.

"We just wondered if we could have our book back."

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Taking my hand, Harry led the way out of there quickly before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. We sprinted back upstairs.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry and I joined them. "What's the matter?"

In low whispers, Harry and I told them what we'd seen.

"You know what this means?" we finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him - he's after whatever it's guarding! And we'd bet our broomsticks he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No - he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," Ron snapped. "I'm with Harry and Cheyenne. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

Harry and I went to bed with our heads buzzing with the same question. The dormitory was quiet, but I couldn't sleep. First, I tried to empty my mind - I needed to sleep, I had to, I had my first Quidditch match in a few hours - but the expression on Snape's face when Harry and I had seen his leg wasn't easy to forget.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried bacon and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"We don't want anything."

"Jut a bit of toast," Hermione suggested.

"We're not hungry,"

Both Harry and I felt horrible. In an hour's time we'd be walking onto the field. I had my head down on the table, hidden in my arms while Harry played with the food on his plate next to me.

"Come on, Harry, Cheyenne, you both need your strength," Seamus Finnigan said. "Seekers and their Helpers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," Harry muttered as I lifted my head some to watch Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages. I groaned and let my face disappear into my arms again.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch patch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what wa going on sometimes.

In the locker room, Harry, myself and the rest of the team were changing into our scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherins would be playing in green.)

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," Chaser Angelina Johnson said.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," Fred Weasley said.

"The one we've all been waiting for," George put in.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry and I, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," Wood said. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at us all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry and I followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping our knees weren't going to give way, walking onto the field to loud cheers. I took Harry's hand and gave a reassuring squeeze for both of us. He smiled at me with the corner of his mouth. We could both see Ron and Hermione sitting with Neville, Seamus and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row of the stands. It looked like they'd painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Powter for President, and Dean, who was a good artist, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath it. It looked like Hermione had used a spell that made the paint flash different colors. Harry and I smiled and nodded at them before turning to face our opponents. We felt braver.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once we were all gathered around her. We noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captian, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry and I thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Letting go of each other's hands, Harry and I mounted our Nimbus Two Thousands.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up high into the air. We were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watch by Professor McGonagall.

High above the crowd, Harry and I glided over the game, squinting around for some sign of the Snitch. We listened partly to the game, celebrating briefly with a couple loop-the-loops when Angelina had scored before returning to looking for the Snitch. This was part of our and Wood's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until one of you catches sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want either of you attacked before you have to be."

Things were slow with Harry thinking he saw a flash of gold that happened to come from one of the Weasley's wristwatch and one of the Bludgers deciding to come pelting our way once, more like a cannonball than anything else. Harry and I dodged it, and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry, Cheyenne?" He had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"

We heard a murmur run through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry and I saw it. In a great rush of excitement we dived downward aftrer the steak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. The two boys were neck and neck as we hurtled toward the Snitch - all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Both Harry and I were faster than Higgs - we could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead - Harry put on an extra spurt of speed - Then, something flashed out of the corner of my eye and I leaned forward, I got ahead of Harry -

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindor below - Marcus Flint had tried to block Harry on purpose, but instead, he'd slammed into me, sending my spirling off course, me holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" The Gryffindors screamed.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. In all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared once more. Harry circled me, helping me straighten out again and asking if I was all right. I told me I was fine.

As Harry and I dodged another Bludger, which just narrowly missed our heads, something weird happened. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Harry's broom give a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, I thought he was going to fall. He gripped his broom tightly with both hands and knees. Neither of us had ever seen something like this.

It happened again. It looked as though the broom was trying to buck him off. However, Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry motioned with his head that he wanted to head for the Gryffindor goal posts, and I knew he was thinking about asking for a time-out, but it seemed he no longer had control over his broom. It didn't look like he could direct it at all. The broom began zigzagging through the air, and every now and then it made violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Below, we could still hear Lee still commentating, but I didn't focus on that as I tried to figure out what to do. The Slytherins were cheering and no one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It kept carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went. I followed him, moving this way and that as I continued to try and figure out what was going on. I knew it had to be a jinx of some sort, possibly just cast onto Harry's Nimbus since all the brooms had been safely locked in the broom shed before the game. Someone in the stands must be controlling the broom from below.

Soon, people started to notice what was going on and began pointing up at Harry and I. Harry's broom had started to roll over and over, with him just barely managing to hold on. A collective gasp came from the crowd as Harry's broom gave a wild jerk, which sent him swinging off it, hanging off it with just one hand gripping the hand.

"No, Harry!" I shrieked, zooming toward him and reaching a hand out. The broom jerked away from me, but I leaned closer to the broom and I flashed a hand out. My hand clamped down on the broom, over Harry's hand and I held it there, keeping him on the broom, which kept jerking, trying to expell me from it as well. However, something surprising happened that made my job even harder.

My broom suddenly started to jerk and swirl violently. I only clutched my broom tighter as I continued to hold Harry's hand, "Just hold on, Harry!" I yelled desperately, looking into my best friends frightened eyes. Just below us, I could see Fred and George fly up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - everytime they got close to us, our brooms only jumped higher. They then dropped lower and circled beneath us, hoping to catch us should we fall.

As our brooms continued to try and unseat us, I noticed something. From the time I'd touched Harry's broom, the jinx had began to shift from his to mine and the jerking of my broom became more powerful with each passing second. This could be Harry's chance to escape! Turning my hazel eyes back on him, I thought up a plan.

"Harry! The jinx is shifting to me! When I let go of your broom, you have to get back on it and get as far away from me as possible, do you understand?" I asked, staring, hard, into his eyes, which had widened.

"But, but Chey-!" I cut him short, "Don't worry about me, Harry, I'll be fine, I promise. You just worry about getting that Snitch while I handle my broom." I said. He nodded hesitantly and I nodded back. Once I was sure the jerking had stopped in his broom, I let go of his hand and leaned back, moving away from him, "Go, now!" I said. Harry climbed back onto his broom and sped off.

My broom jerked wildly, swirling and jumping. Before I knew it, my broom had given a hard jerk and thrown me off. I hung there in the air, clinging to my broom with two hands, kicking at the air with my legs. Things didn't get better from there as I lost grip with one hand and clung there with one hand, which narrowed down to jut a couple fingers, then one. Breathing heavily, I knew I couldn't fight it and allowed my broom to jerk one final time and send me hurling toward the ground. Blood pounded in my ears as wind whistled past, upheaving my hair and ruffling my clothes. A gasp came from the crowd and I closed my eyes, preparing for impact.

Sudden pain flashed through me as I landed on something hard and warm, a long arm wrapping protectively around my waist as a soothing voice said in my ear, "It's all right, Cheyenne, I've got you. George, get her broom before the wind carries it away." The voice was familiar despite the worry making it crack in several places. Opening my eyes, I blinked and looked around. I was on another broomstick, a welcoming arm wrapped around my waist. Lifting my head, my hazel eyes connected with warm brown ones and heat rushed into my face as I realized Fred Weasley had just saved me from certain death. My throat seized and I couldn't find the words to thank him. I'd been crushing on Fred since we'd come to Hogwarts and knowing he'd just saved me just made my heart go wild. Fred smiled weakly, "All right there, Chey? You're not hurt. . .are you?" he asked. I quickly shook my head.

"N-no, I-I'm fine. Th-thanks Fred," I managed to choke out, feeling the heat radiating from my face now. That familiarly cute smirk of his played across his lip and I relaxed some. Something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention and I turned my head.

Harry was speeding toward the ground, his hand clapped to his mouth a though he was going to be sick - he hit the field on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"Yeah! He got it! He got it!" I yelled happily as Fred cheered. We landed and I ran toward Harry, giving him a bear hug. He hugged me back, asking if I was all right. I reassured him I was fine and said we'd won. George returned my broom and I thanked him, and Fred for saving me. I was surprised to see him blush lightly under his freckles.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference - Harry hadn't broke any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results - Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Neither of us heard this, though. We were each being made a strong cup of tea back at Hagrid's hut, with Ron and Hermione.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomsticks, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you two."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who obviously hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry and I decided on the truth.

"Chey and I found out something about him," Harry told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped his teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he asked.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah - he's mine - bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year - I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the - um"

"Yes?" Harry and I prompted eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," Hagrid said gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Rubbish," Hagrid said again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry and Cheyenne?" Hermione cried.

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape.

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! Both Cheyenne and I have! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" Hagrid said hotly. "I don' know why Harry and Cheyenne's brooms acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern ye. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

"Aha!" Harry and I interrupted, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.


	12. The Mirror of Erised

**Chapter Twelve**

**The Mirror of Erised**

Christmas was fast approaching. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake was frozen solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. It was quite amusing to watch and it certainly made me laugh a few times. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where our breath rose in a mist before us and we kept as close as possible to our hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," Draco Malfoy said, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry and I as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry and I, both of us measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored him. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny because they were all so impressed at the way Harry and I had helped each other and managed to stay on our bucking broomsticks as long as we had. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting the two of us about having no proper family.

It was true that Harry and I weren't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and both Harry and I had signed up at once. We didn't feel sorry for ourselves at all; this would probably be the best Christmas we'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

When we left the dungeons at the end of Potions, we found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told us that Hagrid wa behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" Malfoy's cold drawl called from behind us. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose - that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just a Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," Hagrid said, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," Snape said silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

"I'll get him," Ron said, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him -"

"We hate them both," Harry and I said together, "Malfoy and Snape."

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," Hagrid said. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the four of us followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree - put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas tree stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," Hermione and I answered. "And that reminds us - Harry, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh, yeah, you're right," Ron said, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" Hagrid said, following us out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid said, looking shocked. "Listen here - I've told yeh - drop it. It' nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," Hermione said.

I nodded, "Yeah Hagrid, we're curious to find out who this man is and it' not easy to swipe away our curiousity."

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere - just give us a hint - I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'." Hagrid said flatly.

"Just have to find out for oursevles, then," Ron said, and we left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

We had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were we going to find out what Snape was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was also missing from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione and I each took out a list of subjects and titles we had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. I saw Harry wander over to the Restricted Section. He'd been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, in order to look at any of the restricted book, we'd need a specially signed note from one of the teachers and we knew we'd never get one. Those books contained powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and were only read by older students studying advanced Defense Againt the Dark Arts.

I saw Madam Pince, the librarian approach Harry and speak with him, brandishing a feather duster at him before sending him off. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I had already agreed we'd better not ask Madam Pince where we could find Flamel. We were sure she'd be able to tell us, but we couldn't risk Snape hearing what we were up to.

It'd been two weeks since we'd started our search, yet we hadn't found a thing. We usually only had odd moments between lessons to search, so it wasn't surprising we hadn't found anything. What we really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down our necks.

Five minutes latere, Ron, Hermione and I joined Harry out in the corridor, shaking our heads. We went off to lunch.

"You three will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" Hermione asked. "And send me an owl if you find anything. Cheyenne, you will, right?" I nodded, "Of course, we don't want to keep you out of the loop." I said with a smile. She smiled back.

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," Ron said. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," Hermione said.

Once holidays had started, Ron, Harry and I were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had a dormitory to themselves, as I did, but feeling uncomfortable sleeping in a large dormitory by myself, I snuck into Harry and Ron's dorm at night to sleep and left when we had to change. The common room was even emptier than usual, so we were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. We sat by the hour eating anything we could spear on a toasting fork - bread, English muffins, marshmellows - and they plotted ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which they had fun talking about even though they knew they wouldn't work.

Ron also started teaching Harry and I wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family - in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry and I played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent us, and they didn't trust either of us at all. We weren't very good players yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at us, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him."

On Christmas Eve, Harry and I went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and fun, but not really expecting any presents at all. Having taken up Neville's bed, which was on the other side of Harry's bed, I woke early in the morning, like usual, to sneak back to my dormitory and change, but was surprised to find a small pile of packages at the foot of the bed.

"Merry Christmas!" Ron said sleepily as Harry and I scrambled out of bed and pulled on our bathrobes.

"You, too," We said. "Will you look at this? We've got some presents!"

"What did you two expect, turnips?" Ron asked, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than mine and Harry's combined.

Harry and I each picked up the top parcel from our piles. They were both wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry/ Cheyenne, from Hagrid. Inside each was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled them himself. We each blew them - they both sounded a bit like an owl.

A couple of very small parcels came next, both containing a note.

We received your message and enclose your Christmas presents. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the notes were fifty-pence pieces.

"That's friendly," Harry and I remarked.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence pieces.

"Weird!" he said, "What a shape! This is money?"

"You can keep it," Harry and I said, laughing at how pleased Ron was. "Hagrid, and our aunt and uncle - so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," Ron said, turning slightly pink and pointing to a couple of very lumpy parcels. "My mom. I told her you two didn't expect any presents and - oh no," he groaned, "she's made you both a Weasley sweater."

Harry and I had torn open the parcels to find a couple of thick, hand knitted sweaters, and two large boxes of homemade fudge. Harry's sweater was emerald green while mine was a bright red.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," Ron said, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," Harry said as we tried the fudge, which was really tasty. I even tried on the sweater and found it was nice and warm.

Our next presents contained candy - a large box of Chocolate Frogs each from Hermione.

This just left one parcel each. Harry and I picked them up and felt them. It felt very light and, glancing at each other, we unwrapped them.

Something fluid and silvery gray came slithering out onto the floor where they lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he'd gotten from Hermione. "If those are what I think they are - they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What are they?"

Harry and I each picked up our own shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It felt strange to touch, almost like water woven into material.

"They're invisibility cloaks," Ron said, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure they are - try them on."

Looking at each other again, Harry and I shrugged, then threw the cloaks around our shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

"They are! Look down!"

We looked down at our feet, but they were gone. We dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, our reflections looked back at us, just our heads suspended in midair, our bodies completely invisible. We pulled the cloaks over our heads and our reflections vanished completely.

"There's a note!" Ron said suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Pulling off our cloaks, Harry seized the letter while I read it over his shoulder. The note was written in narrow, loopy writing we had never seen before. It read:

Your fathers left these in my possession before

they died. It is time they were returned to you two.

Use them well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you both.

There wasn't a signature. Harry and I stared at the note, then we looked at each other. Ron was admiring our cloaks.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," We said. We felt very strange. Who had sent the cloaks? Had they really once belonged to our fathers?

Before we could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George bounded in. Harry and I quickly stuffed the cloaks out of sight. We didn't feel like sharing them with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look - Harry and Cheyenne've each got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Harry and Cheyenne're better than ours, though," Fred said, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You two haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your names." Fred smirked, "But we're not stupid - we know we're called Gred and Forge." I stifled a laugh, biting my lip, but still unable to stop the smile that turned up the corners of my lips. Fred smiled at me.

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry and Cheyenne each got one."

"I - don't - want -" Percy said thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," George said. "Christmas is a time for family."

The twins then frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his sides by his sweater.

Harry and I had never in all our lifes had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered pears, silver boats of thick, rick gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry and I each pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed us all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a real admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice. Harry and I watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine. He finally kissed Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to our amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat a little lopsided.

When Harry and I finally left the table, we were each laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and our own, shared, new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry and I had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry, the Weasleys and I spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, we returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry and I broke in our new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. We suspected we wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help us so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, we all felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

This had been my and Harry's best Christmas ever. Yet something had been nagging at the two of us all day. Not until we climbed into bed were we free to think about it: our invisibility cloaks and whoever had sent them.

Ron, who was full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep as soon as he'd drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Sitting up, I slid carefully out of bed and crawled over to Harry's bed as he leaned over the side and pulled the cloaks out from under it.

Our father's. . .these had been our father's. I let the material flow over my hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use them well, the note had said.

Looking at each other again, Harry and I knew we had to try it now. I stood as Harry slid out of his bed and we wrapped the cloaks around ourselves. Looking down at my legs, I could only see moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling.

Use it well.

Suddenly, we felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to us in this cloak. Excitement flooded through me as we stood there in the dark and silence. We could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunted in his sleep. Should we wake him? Something held us back - our father's cloaks - we felt that this time - the first time - we wanted to use them alone. Harry and I decided it'd be best to use the cloaks together. I put my cloak away in my backpack and got under Harry's cloak with him.

We crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" the Fat Lady squawked. Neither of us said anything. We walked quickly down the corridor.

"Where should we go?" I whispered to him. We stopped, and I could hear our hearts racing each other as he thought. Then, it looked like he knew.

"The Restricted Section in the library. We'd be able to read as long as we liked, as long as it takes to find out who Flamel is. Come on, Chey." We set off again, drawing the invisibility cloak tigher around us as we walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to light our way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry and I could see/feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave us the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, Harry held up his lamp so we could read the titles.

They didn't tell us much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages neither Harry nor I could understand. Some had no titles at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Maybe I was imagining it, maybe not, but I thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was here who shouldn't be.

We had to start somewhere. While Harry set the lamp down carefully, I slid out from under the cloak and moved along down the rows to look for interesting books. I walked farther away from Harry, walking around a corner and continuing down a different row, running my finger along the spines of the books to read the titles by touch instead of sight. I'd pulled a few books out and was looking for a third now.

A sudden piercing, bloodcurdling scream split the silence. Nearly jumping clear out of my skin, the books tumbled out of my hands, onto the floor. At one point, the scream got a little softer, but didn't stop as it continued in one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. The sound of glass hitting the floor and shattering came next as the light on the other side of my shelf went out. I swung my backpack off, unzipped it and threw my cloak on in one fluid movement before bolting out of the Restricted Section, skidding to a halt when I saw Filch in the library doorway. I moved back and hid myself behind a shelf until he'd run for the Restricted Section and I bolted out of the library as fas as I could. I didn't even pay attention to where I was going until I heard Filch's greasy voice behind me, along with Snape's! I stopped in front of a tall suit of armor and hunched over, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath and look around.

I had no idea where Harry was and I was afraid for him and myself. Once I'd caught my breath, I stood straight and started down the corridor, "Harry? Harry, where are you?" I whispered, hoping he heard me and that I'd be able to find him. I passed a door that stood ajar to my left and suddenly felt something grab my arm. I yelped in surprise as I was dragged backward and turned quickly to see who it was, only to find Harry there.

"It's all right, Chey, it's just me." He whispered as I took off my cloak. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." I shook my head, "It's all right, I'm just glad I found you." I said, hugging him. He smiled and hugged me back, then pulled back, "I found something interesting, come over here." He took my hand and lead me across the room.

We were in an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket - but propped against the wall facing us was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

My panic and worry had started to fade now that there was no sound of Filch or Snape. Harry moved me closer to the mirror and had it standing right in front of it.

"Just look into this mirror, Chey. I think it's my parents." He said, stepping back so I could look. I blinked in surprise, then clapped a hand to my mouth to prevent myself from screaming as I whirled around. Only Harry was in the room with me, but when I looked into the mirror, a whole crowd of people had been standing right behind us.

I slowly turned back around to look in the mirror. There I was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind me, were at least ten others. I peered over my shoulder - but still, no one else was there except Harry. Or were they all invisible, too? Were Harry and I in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

I looked into the mirror again. A woman stood right behind my reflection. She smiled at me and waved. I gulped and wet my lips, resisting the urge to reach behind me and feel the air as I realized that she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was very pretty. Her hair was a perfectly straight black and she had warm brown eyes. Her eyes looked similar to mine, in shape, but had a darker color, and they were gentle. Then, I noticed she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, dirty blond haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. His hair was really wavy, and curled at the ends as they sat silently on his shoulders. His eyes were a smoldering sky blue and they wrinkled at the corners when he smiled. I touched my hair where it curled just past my shoulders. It was just like his.

My eyes stung as tears touched them and warmed my cheeks as they ran down them in trails. "Mom?" I whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at me, smiling. And slowly, I looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of blue, brown and hazel eyes like mine and theirs', other noses like mine, even a little old woman who had the same long limbs - I was looking at my family, for the first time in my life.

The Powers smiled and waved at me and I stared back at him, my fingers lightly grazing the glass as if I hoped I'd fall right through it and reach them. A powerful ache swelled in me, half joy, half terrible sadness.

"Harry," I whispered softly, "I don't see your parents. . .I see mine." I said, not even looking away from the mirror at him.

"Really? I want to see." Harry stepped in front of the mirror next to me. I pointed them out just as I saw some new people appear, including another pretty woman with dark red hair and bright eyes - just like Harry's! The other tall, thin man had black-hair and wore glasses. His hair was untidy and stuck up at the back like Harry's. We stood, staring at our own families and each others.

How long we stood there, we didn't know. The reflections did not fade and we looked and looked until a distant noise brought us back to our senses. We couldn't stay here, we had to find our way back to bed. Tearing our eyes away from our mothers' faces, we whispered, "We'll come back," and hurried from the room.

"You two could have woken me up," Ron said, crossly.

"You can come tonight, we're going back. We want to show you the mirror."

"I'd like to see your moms and dads," Ron said eagerly.

"And we want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you'll be able to show us your other brothers and everyone."

"You can see them any old time," Ron said. "Just come around my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you two eating anything?"

Neither Harry nor I could eat. We had seen our parents and would be seeing them again tonight. We had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared about what the three-headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?

"Are you two all right?" Ron said. "You both look odd."

What Harry and I feared most was that we might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron sharing Harry's cloak and me taking my own cloak, we'd had to keep together by tying a rope to my ankle that went to Harry's, so we had to walk much more slowly the next night. We tried retracting our route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour.

"I'm freezing," Ron said. "Let's forget it and go back."

"No!" Harry and I hissed. "We know it's here somewhere."

We passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the oppsite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry and I spotted the suit of armor.

"It's here - just here - yes!"

We pushed the door open. Harry and I dropped our cloaks and ran for the mirror, forgeting about the rope.

There they were. Our mothers and fathers beamed at the sight of us.

"See?" Harry and I whispered.

"I can't see anything."

"Look! Look at them all. . .there are loads of them. . . ."

"I can only see you two."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where we are."

Harry and I stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, we couldn't see our families anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!"

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No - I'm alone - but I'm different - I look older - and I'm head boy!"

"What?"

"I am - I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to - and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup - I'm Quidditch captain, too!"

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry and I.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All our family are dead - let us have another look -"

"You two had it to yourselves all last night, give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? We want to see our parents."

"Don't push me -"

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to our duscussion. We hadn't realized how loudly we'd been talking.

"Quick!"

Ron threw the cloaks back over us as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron, Harry and I stood quite still, all of us thinking the same thing - did the cloaks work on cats? After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe - she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Ron pulled Harry and I out of the room.

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry, Cheyenne?" Ron said.

"No."

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"

"No. . .you go. . ."

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, Cheyenne, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it - and anyway, you two've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into one of you? What if one of you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione." Harry said.

"I'm serious, Harry, Cheyenne, don't go."

But Harry and I only had one thought in our heads, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop us.

That third night we found our way more quickly than before. We were walking so fast we knew we were making more noise than was wise, but we didn't meet anyone.

And there were our mothers and fathers smiling at us again, and one of our grandparents nodded happily. Harry and I sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop us from staying here all night with our families. Nothing at all.

Except -

"So - back again, Harry and Cheyenne?"

Feeling like my insides had turned to ice, I whirled around to look behind us. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry and I must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror we hadn't noticed him.

"We - we didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," Dumbledore said, and Harry and I were relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," Dumbledore said, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with the two of us, "you two, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

Glancing at each other, Harry and I looked at Dumbledore again, "We didn't know it was called that, sir."

"But I expect you've both realized by now what it does."

"It - well - it shows us our families -"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."

"How did you know -?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," Dumbledore said gently. "Now, can either of you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry and I shook our heads.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry and I thought. Then we said slowly, "It shows us what we want. . .whatever we want. . ."

"Yes and no," Dumbledore said quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You two, who have never known your families, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

"The mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, Cheyenne, and I ask you both not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you two will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put those admirable cloaks back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood and helped me up.

"Sir - Professor Dumbledore? Can we ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry and I stared.

"One can never have enough socks," Dumbledore said. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when we were back in bed that it struck Harry and I that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. Bu then, we thought, as I watched him shove Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.


	13. Nicolas Flamel

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Nicolas Flamel**

Dumbledore had convinced Harry and I not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays our invisibility cloaks stayed folded at the bottom of our trunks. We both wished we could forget what we'd seen in the mirror as easily, but we couldn't. We even started having nightmares. Over and over again we'd dream about our parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," Ron said, when Harry and I told him about these dreams.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry and I being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row, and disappointment that we hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamet was.

We had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, we were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during our breaks. Harry and I had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry and I were on Wood's side. If we won our next match, against Hufflepuff, we would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harry and I found that we had fewer nightmares when we were tired out from training.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor."

George really did fall off his broom at these words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of us landed next to George to complain, too.

"It's not my fault," Wood said. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which was all very well, I thought, but Harry and I had another reason for not wanting Snape near us while we were playing Quidditch. . . .

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry and I headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where we found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione and I ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for us.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," Ron said when Harry and I sat down next to him. "I need to concen -" He caught sight of our faces. "What's the matter with you two? You both look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry and I told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," Hermione said at once.

"Say you're both ill," Ron said.

"Pretend to break your legs," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your legs," Ron said.

"We can't," Harry and I interrupted. "There isn't a reserve Seeker or Helper. If we back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what we recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except for Hermione and I. We both leapt up and performed the countercurse. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?" We asked him, leading him over to sit with the boys.

"Malfoy," Neville said shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Ron said. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brace enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out. I rubbed his back, frowning disapprovingly.

I saw Harry pull out a Chocolate Frog from his robes, the very last one from the box he'd gotten from Hermione for Christmas. He handed it over to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin." I nodded, "Harry's right Neville. Malfoy just makes others feel bad so he'll feel bigger, but you're better than that. You're a better person."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry, Cheyenne. . .I think I'll go to bed. . . . D'you two want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry and I looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," Harry said, "He was the first one we ever -"

Harry gasped. He stared at the back of the car, then looked up at Ron, Hermione and I.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before. Chey and I read it on the train coming here - listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

Something clicked in my mind the second Hermione jumped to her feet, looking as excited as she had been the day we'd gotten back the marks for our very first piece of homework.

"Stay here!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to our dormitory. I saw Harry and Ron just barely able to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"We never though to look in here!" she whispered excitedly, sitting next to me again and exchanging a glance with me. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" Ron said, but Hermione told him to be quiet until we'd looked something up, and she and I started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to each other.

At last we found what we were looking for.

"We knew it! We knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" Ron asked grumpily. Hermione and I ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," we whispered together dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

This didn't have quite the affect we'd expected.

"The what?" Harry and Ron asked together.

"Oh, honestly,don't you two read? Look - read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and we waited for Harry and Ron to finish reading. What they were reading was:

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"See?" Hermione said once Harry and Ron had finished reading. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" Harry said. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," Ron said. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Hermione and I listened to Harry and Ron still discussing what they'd do with a Sorcerer's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that Harry and I remembered about Snape and the coming match.

"We're going to play," we told Ron and Hermione. "If we don't, all the Slytherins will think we're just too scared to face Snape. We'll show them. . .it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win."

"Just as long as we're not wiping one or both of you off the field," Hermione said.

As the match drew nearer, however, Harry and I became more and more nervous, whatever we told Ron and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would we be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Neither Harry nor I knew whether we were imagining it or not, but we seemed to keep running into Snape wherever we went. At times, we even wondered whether Snape was following us, trying to catch us on our own. Potions lessions were turning into a sort of weekly torture. Snape was so horrible to the two of us. Could Snape possibly know we'd found out about the Sorcerer's Stone? Neither of us could see how he could - yet we sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds.

Harry and I knew, when they wished us good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron and Hermione were wondering whether they'd ever see us alive again. That wasn't what you'd call comforting. We hardly even heard a word of Wood's pep talk as we pulled on our Quidditch robes and picked up our Nimbus Two Thousands.

As we were preparing to leave for the field, Wood took Harry and I aside.

"Don't want to pressure you both, Potter, Power, but if we ever needed an early capture of the Snitch it was now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

"The whole school's out there!" Fred said, peering out of the door, "Even - blimey - Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harry looked at each other, surprised.

"Dumbledore?" we said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Harry and I could have laughed out loud in relief. We were safe. There was simply no way that Snape would dare to try and harm us if Dumbledore was watching.

Perhaps that was why Snape was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field. Once the captains had shaken hands, we mounted our brooms and took off. Harry and I soared high above the game, keeping our eyes peeled for the Golden Snitch. We circled the stadium, looking in every direciton for the Snitch.

We heard when Snape awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George had hit a Bludger in his direction, then another a few minutes later for no apparant reason. I flew away from Harry, pushing some hair out of my face as I looked around for the Snitch. Something gold caught the corner of my eye and I turned my head to be sure. Yes! I could see the Snitch fluttering around the stand where Dumbledore sat with Professor McGonagall. I zoomed back toward Harry, keeping an eye on the flash of gold.

"Harry! I spotted it!" I said, nodding in the Snitch's direction. Harry turned his head, seeing the litte ball just a second before it dived toward the ground. He nodded and sped after it. I did some circles in the air and zoomed after him, blocking the Hufflepuff Seeker when he started to get too close.

Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see us shoot past him, just missing him by inches - the next second Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; this had to be a record, no one could probably remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

I zoomed to the ground and landed next to Harry, engulfing him in a hug. We couldn't believe it. We'd done it, he'd done it - the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, we saw Snape land nearby, white-face and tight-lipped - then, feeling someone tap us, we looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," Dumbledore said quietly, so that only Harry and I could hear. "Nice to see you two haven't been brooding about that mirror. . .been keeping busy. . .excellent. . . ."

Snape spat bitterly on the ground.

Harry and I left the locker room alone some time later, to take our Nimbus Two Thousands back to the broomshed. We couldn't remember feeling happier. We'd really done something to be proud of now - no one could say we were just a couple of famous names any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. We walked over the damp grass, talking excitedly about the last hour, which felt like a happy blur; Gryffindors running to lift us onto their shoulders; Ron and Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering through a heavy nosebleed.

Harry and I had reached the shed. We both leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. We'd done it, we'd shown Snape. . . .

And speaking of Snape. . .

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. My and Harry's victory faded from our minds as we watched. We recognized the figure's prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner - what was going on?

Glancing at each other uneasily, Harry and I hopped back on our Nimbus Two Thousands and took off. Gliding silently over the castle we saw Snape enter the forest at a run. We followed.

The trees were so thick we couldn't see where Snape had gone. Flying in circles, we got lower and lower until we brushed the top branches of the trees until we heard voices. We glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

We climbed carefully along a couple of the branches, holding tight to our broomsticks, trying to see through the leaves.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry and I couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. We strained to catch what they were saying.

". . .d-don't know why you want t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus. . ."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," Snape said, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

We leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I -"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," Snape said, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you -"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly, making Harry and I jump. Harry started to tip sideways and I flashed a hand out, grabbing his upper arm and steading him just in time to hear Snape say, "- your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't -"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but both Harry and I could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

"Harry, Cheyenne, where have you been?" Hermione squealed.

"We won! We won! We won!" Ron shouted, thumping Harry on the back as Hermione engulfed me in a tight hug. "And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right - talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you two in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," Harry and I said breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you both hear this. . . ."

We made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind us, then we told Ron and Hermione what we'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy - and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus-pocus' - we reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti- Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through -"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" Hermione said in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," Ron said.


	14. Norbet the Norwegian Ridgeback

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Norbet the Norwegian Ridgeback**

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than we'd thought. In the weeks that followed he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look at though he'd cracked yet.

Every time we passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I would press our ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry and I passed Quirrell these days we gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron even started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She even reminded me of it and I started focusing on it too. We started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all our notes. The boys said they wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione and I said. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you two studying for, you both already know it all."

"What are we studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, we should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into us. . . ."

Unfortunately for Harry and Ron, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on us that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. The boys had a hard time relaxing with Hermione and I next to them reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements together. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with us, trying to get through all our extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day we'd had in months. They sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

I was helping Harry look up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi when we heard Ron said, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?" Harry and I looked up.

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got our interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not sill lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," Ron said impressively. "And we knew what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St -"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There was a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," Harry put in. I nodded, "Yes, we wanted to know about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy -"

"SHHHH!" Hagrid said again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh -"

"See you later, then," Harry said.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section he was in," Ron said, who looked like he'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told us so the first time we ever met him," Harry and I said.

"But it's against our laws," Ron said. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britian?" Harry asked.

"Of course there are," Ron said. "Common Welsh Greens and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" Hermione and I said.

When we knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, we were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called, "Who is it?" before he let us in, and then shut the door quickly behind us.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made us tea and offered us stoat sandwiches, which we politely refused.

"So - yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," Harry said. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowned at us.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts - I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know everything that goes on round here," Hermione said in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and we could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry, Ron and I beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'ppose it could hurt ter tell yeh that. . .let's see. . .he borrowed Fluffy from me. . .then some o' the teachers did enchantments. . .Professor Sprout - Professor Flitwick - Professor McGonagall -" he was ticking them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell - an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh, yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?"

"Yeah - yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry and I knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same as we were. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything - except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" Harry and I said anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," Hagrid said proudly.

"Well, that's something," We muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? We're boiling."

"Can't, you two, sorry," Hagrid said. Harry and I noticed him glance at the fire. We looked at it too.

"Hagrid - what's that?"

But we already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," Hagrid said, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's - er. . ."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" Ron said, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," Hagrid said. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," Hagrid said, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library - Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit - it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breath on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here - how ter recognize diff'rent eggs - what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," She said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stroked the fire.

So now we had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening we struggled through all the extra homework we were getting. Hermione and I had even started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, and I could tell it was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry and I another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: _It's hatching_

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Harry and I whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? Neither Harry nor I liked the look on Malfoy's face at all.

Ron and Hermione continued to argue all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the three of us during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of our lesson, the four of us dropped our trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted us, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered us inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

We all drew our chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping nouse and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; I thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were hug compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" Hagrid said.

"Hagrid," Hermione said, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face - he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Harry and I bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Harry, Ron, Hermione and I very nervous. We spend most of our free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," Hagrid said. "He's too litte. He'd die."

We looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," Hagrid said, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered to Harry and I.

"Hagrid," Harry and I said loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip.

"I - I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry and I turned to Ron.

"Charlie," We said.

"You're both losing it, too," Ron said. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No - Charlie - your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" Ron said. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that we could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermione, Harry and I sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing us his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window.

"It'd Hedwig!" Harry said, hurrying to let her inside. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The four of us put our heads together to read the note.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter - I'd be glad to take_

_the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him_

_here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with_

_some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week._

_Trouble it, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at mid-_

_night on Saturay? They can meet you there and take him_

_away while it's still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love,_

_Charlie._

We all looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloaks," Harry and I said. "It shouldn't be too difficult - I think the cloaks together are big enough to cover three of us and Norbert.

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with us. Anything to get rid of Norbert - and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey - would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry, Hermione and I rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me - I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me - I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

We tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," Hermione said, but this didn't sooth Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no - oh no - I've just remembered - Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

None of us had the chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made us leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told Hermione and I. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloaks, Malfoy doesn't know about those."

We found Fang the boarhound sitting outside with a bandaged tail when we went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to us.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage - nothin' I can't handle."

When we told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot - jus' playin' - he's only a baby, after all."

The baby banged his tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry, Hermione and I walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

We would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if we hadn't been so worried about what we had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and we were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because we'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of our way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," Hagrid said in a muffled voice. "An' I packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to me as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry, Hermione and I covered the crate with the invisibility cloaks and stepped underneath ourselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How we managed to get the crate back up to the castle, we never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as we heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another - not even one of my or Harry's shortcuts made the work easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as we reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of us made us almost drop the crate. Forgetting that we were already invisible, we shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you -"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power're coming - they've got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until we'd stepped out into the cold night air did we throw off the cloaks, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry and I advised her.

Chuckling about Malfoy, we waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry, Hermione and I the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. We all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry, Hermione and I shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going. . .going. . .gone.

We slipped back down the spiral staircase, our hearts as light as our hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon - Malfoy in detention - what could spoil our happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As we stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."

We'd left the invisibiltiy cloaks on top of the tower.


	15. The Forbidden Forest

**Chapter Fifteen**

**The Forbidden Forest**

Things couldn't have been worse.

Filch took out down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where we sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around my brain, each more feeble than the last. I couldn't see how we were going to get out of trouble this time. We were cornered. How could we have been so stupid as to forget the cloaks? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for our being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for class. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloaks, and we might as well be packing our bags already.

Had we thought that things couldn't have been worse? We were wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.

"Harry!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the three of us. "Cheyenne. I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag-"

Harry and I shook our heads violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the four of us.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," Professor McGonagall said. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

Harry and I caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville - Harry and I knew what it must have cost him to try and find us in the dark, to warn us.

"I'm disgusted," Professor McGonagall continued. "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter and Miss Power, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you two than this. All four of you will receice detentions - yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous - and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Harry and I gasped - we would lose the lead, the lead we'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," Professor McGonagall said, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor - please -"

"You can't -"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Power. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

Two hundred points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, we'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harry and I felt as though the bottoms had dropped out of our stomachs. How could we ever make up for this?

Neither Harry nor I could sleep all night. I could hear Hermione whispering things under her breath as she cried quietly. I didn't know what I could have said to her to give her comfort. I knew Hermione, like me, was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what we'd done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could we suddenly have two hundred points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power, the famous P team, their heros of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, us and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being two of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry and I were suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on us, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harry and I went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted us. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as we walked past them, whistling and cheering. "Thanks Powter, we own you one!"

Only Ron stood by us.

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost two hundred points in one go, though, have they?" Harry said miserably as I flinched at the mention of Fred. Even he was looking at me with disappointment in his eyes and I felt like I'd ruined our friendship. Harry rubbed my back, but I didn't look at him.

"Well - no," Ron admitted.

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry and I swore to ourselves and each other not to meddle in things that weren't our business from now on. We'd had it with sneaking around and spying. We felt so ashamed of ourselves that we went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.

"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to either of us during practice, and if they had to speak about us, they called us "the Seeker" and "his Helper."

Hermione and Neville were suffering too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry or I, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione and I had even stopped drawing attention to ourselves in class, keeping our heads down and working in silence.

Harry and I were almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying we had to do kept our minds off our misery. He, Ron, Hermione and I kept to ourselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms, and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions. . . .

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, my and Harry's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern us was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on our own one afternoon, we heard someone whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As we drew closer, we heard Quirrell's voice.

"No - no - not again, please -"

It sounds as though someone was threatening him. Harry and I moved closer.

"All right - all right -" we heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. Harry grabbed my shoulders and moved me back some. Quirrell was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Neither Harry nor I thought Quirrell even noticed us. We waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. We were halfwalf toward it before we remembered what we'd promised ourselves about not meddling.

All the same, we'd have gambled twelve Sorcerer's Stones each that Snape had just left the room, and from what we'd just heard, Snape would be walking with a new spring in his step - Quirrell seemed to have given in at last.

Harry and I went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. We told them what we'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" Ron said. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell -"

"There's still Fluffy, though," Hermione said.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," Ron said, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding us. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry, Cheyenne?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry or I could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof!" Harry said. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor - who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think."

I nodded in agreement, "And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around -"

"No," Harry said flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and asked me to help him learn the names of its moons. I sat down next to him and helped him, trying to push what we'd just learned out of my mind.

The following morning, notes were delievered to Harry, Hermione, Neville and I at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight._

_Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

_Professor M. McGonagall_

We'd forgotten we still had detentions to do in the commotion over the points we'd lost. We half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word. Like Harry and I, she felt we deserved what we'd got.

At eleven o'clock that night, we said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there - and so was Malfoy. We'd also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.

"Follow me," Filch said, lighting a lamp and leading us outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at us. "Oh yes. . .hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me. . . .It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out. . .hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case the're ever needed. . . .Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

We marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. Harry and I looked at each other, wondering what our punishment was going to be. It must be something really horriblie, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing us into darkness. Ahead, Harry and I could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then we heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

My heart rose; if we were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. My relief must have showed on my face, because Filch said, "I suppose you two think you'll be enjoying yourselves with that oaf? Well, think again - it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night - there's all sorts of things in there - werewolves, I heard."

I saw Neville clutch the sleeve of Harry's robe and heard him make a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Filch said, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward us out of the dark, Fang at his heels. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," He said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione, Cheyenne?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch said coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, it is?" Hagrid said, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," Filch said, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Harry and I were pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," Hagrid said fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for student to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd -"

"- tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!"

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," Hagrid said, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led us to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted our hair as we looked into the forest.

"Look there," Hagrid said, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Malfoy said, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," Hagrid said. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," Malfoy said quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," Hagrid said. "So me, Harry an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, Cheyenne, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now - that's it - an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh - so, be careful - let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it we reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, Fang and I took the right. As we walked farther along the path, I kept the lead with Fang, keeping an eye on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight that broke through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

I could hear Malfoy complaining under his breath behind me.

"Grow up Malfoy, this is our punishment and you need to deal with it. Your daddy can't save you from everything." I said, glaring at him over my shoulder. He lifted his gray eyes and glared back at me.

"Shut it Power, at least I have a father. You and Potter have to be raised by those Muggles." He snapped back, crossing his arms over his chest.

I rolled my eyes, but didn't dare reply.

We continued on, passing a few mossy trees, small puddles of blood splashed on their roots. Neville whimpered softly a few times before he spoke.

"Ch-cheye-nne, wh-what do you th-think is kil-ling the uni-corns?" He stuttered and I gave a small shrug, "I don't know, Neville, it's probably something that has incredible speed and strength, like a werewolf or something. And don't worry, if we're attacked I'm sure Hagrid will hurry to us and save us right away," I said, turning slightly to smile at him. He nodded shakily.

We continued on in silence for several minutes, listening to the sounds of nature; the sounds of the wind rustling through the leaves, the sounds of owls hooting in the distance, the rushing of wings. I took in a deep breath, enjoying the cool night air when an unusual sound reached my ears. I stopped abruptly to listen. Neville and Malfoy, who had been caught off guard, bumped into me, making me stumble forward and land on one knee on the forest path.

"Cheyenne! Are you all right?" Neville squeaked. I shushed him, promising I was all right, but asking him to listen for a moment. He went still and we listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Fang growled as Neville squeaked again.

"What's that? What is that?" he said, beginning to shake harder. I got to my feet quickly and calmed Neville quickly, "Shhh, Neville, it's all right, it doesn't sound like they're too close, but now at least we do know something is out here. Come on, let's keep going,"

We continued on through the trees, listening for more unusual sounds that we could find. The blood continued on down the bath, becoming a bit more frequant and thicker. I moved a little farther ahead, telling Fang to stay with the boys as I hurried down the path. Something moving caught my ear and I frowned, picking up the pace to try and find what it was. I was sure I was catching up to it when -

"AHH!" The yell suddenly burst the silence. I whipped around to look in the direction I'd just come, "Neville?" I said, taking off down the path just as a burst of red sparks exploded over the trees. I soon reached Malfoy and Neville again, panting and with my wand in my hand.

Neville was standing against a nearby tree, holding his heart with the color completely drained from his face. Fang was hidden behind the nearest tree, his tail between his legs and Malfoy was doubled over in laughter, holding his stomach. I rushed over to Neville, asking what happened. Apparently, Malfoy had snuck up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke, which in turn made Neville send up the sparks.

I stalked over to the blond haired boy and grabbed the front of his shirt, "What is your problem? Don't you think Neville is suffering enough without you giving him a bloody heart attack?" I yelled, feeling the urge to slap him as hard as I could. However, the sounds of someone crashing through the undergrowth made us turn our heads a second before Hagrid appeared, his crossbow at the ready to shoot.

"What happened? Are yeh three all right?" he asked. I nodded and let go of Malfoy as I explained what happened. Hagrid was furious, "Come back with me. We're switchin' groups." He growled and turned, walking back off in the direction he'd come. Glaring at Malfoy, I pushed him back as I let go of his shirt and I gently took Neville's arm, leading him after Hagrid. Fang ran after us, followed by Malfoy, who was still laughing. Soon, we'd reached the other path where Harry and Hermione waited for Hagrid's return.

"We'll be lucky ter catck anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups - Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang, Cheyenne an' this idiot. I'm sorry you two," Hagrid added in a whisper to Harry and I, "but it'd be better to keep you two together. I thought Malfoy wouldn' try nothin' with you there Cheyenne, but I was wrong. He'll have a harder time frightenin' you both an' we've gotta get this done."

So Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy, Fang and I. We walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. The blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been trashing around in pain close by. We could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look -" Harry murmured, holding out an arm to stop Malfoy and I.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. We inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Neither Harry nor I had ever seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered. . . .Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, Fang and I stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted - so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry and I - unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward us - we couldn't move for fear.

Then a pain like we'd never felt before pierced our heads; it was as though our scars were on fire. Half blinded, we staggered backward. We heard hooves behind us, galloping, and something jumped clean over us, charging at the figure.

The pain in my and Harry's heads was so bad we fell to our knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When we looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over us; he looked young with white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you two all right?" the centaur asked, pulling the two of us to our feet.

"Yes - thank you - what was that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry and I, his eyes lingering on the scars that stood out, livid, on our foreheads.

"You are the Potter boy," He said to Harry, then looked at me, "And you are the Power girl, his mate," My face heated up and I tried to correct him, but he only continued. "You two had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time - especially for you two. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way."

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself onto his front legs so that we could climb onto his back. Harry helped me on first and clambered on behind me.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Two more centaurs appeared, one with red hair and a beard with a gleaming chestnut body with a long reddish tail. The other looked wilder with black hair and a black body.

"Firenze!" The black bodied centaur thundered. "What are you doing? You have two humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who these two are?" Firenze said. "This is the Potter/Power duo. The quicker they leave this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling them?" He growled. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

The red centaur pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," He said in a gloomy voice.

The black centaur kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donekys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared onto his hind legs in anger, forcing me to grab his shoulders to stay on while Harry wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Harry and I hanging on as best as we could, we plunged off into the trees, leaving Bane and the red centaur behind us.

Neither Harry nor I had a clue what was going on.

"Why's Bane so angry?" Harry asked. "What was that thing you saved us from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry and I to keep our head bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. We made our way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry and I thought Firenze didn't want to talk to us anymore. We were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power, do you two know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," Harry and I replied, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," Firenze said. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Harry and I looked at each only uncomfortably before staring at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"But who'd be that desperate?" We wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else - something that will bring you back to full strength and power - something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, Miss Power, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course - the Elixir of Life! But we don't understand who-"

"Can neither of you think of anyone who has waited many years to return to power, who had clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It felt as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around my heart. Over the rustling of the tree, I seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told Harry and I on the night we had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die."

"Do you mean," Harry and I croaked, "that was Vol -"

"Harry! Cheyenne! Are you two all right?"

Hermione was running toward us down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"We're fine," Harry said, and I could tell he hardly knew what he was saying. I didn't even know what I was saying when I spoke up and said, "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you two," Firenze muttered as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You're both safe now."

Harry slid off his back and helped me down.

"Good luck, Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power," Firenze said. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry and I shivering behind him.

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for us to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry and I began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest.

Harry and I reacted differently. While Harry couldn't sit still, I couldn't move and sat, slumped, in an armchair in front of Harry. He paced up and down in front of the fire. We were both still shaking.

"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort. . .and Voldemort's waiting in the forest. . . and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich. . . ."

"Stop saying the name!" Ron said in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear us.

Neither Harry nor I were listening.

"Firenze saved us, but he shouldn't have done so. . . .Bane was furious. . .he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen. . . .They must show that Voldemort's coming back. . . .Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill us. . . .We think that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you two stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.

"So all we've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry and I went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish us off. . . .Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.

"Harry, Cheyenne, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch either of you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fourtune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before we'd stopped talking. We went to bed exhausted, our throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.

When I pulled back my sheets, I found my invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:

_Just in case._


	16. Through the Trap Door

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Through the Trapdoor**

In years to come, Harry and I would exchange, we would never quite remember how we had managed to get through our exams when we half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where we did our written papers. We had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

We had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called us one by one into his class to see if we could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched us turn a mouse into a snufflebox - points were given for how pretty the snufflebox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made us all nervous, breathing down our necks while we tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Harry and I tried the best we could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in our foreheads, which had been bothering us ever since our trip into the forest. Neville and a few girls in my dorm thought Harry and I had a bad case of exam nerves because neither of us could sleep, but the truth was that Harry and I kept being woken by our old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry and I had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry or I. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.

Our very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and we'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until our exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told us to put down our quills and roll up our parchement, neither Harry nor I could help but cheer with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," Hermione said as we joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "We needn't have learning about the 1637 Werewolf Cod of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager, right Cheyenne?" I nodded in agreement, "Right. Although, they were easy to study and even if we'd learned it, it would have been easy to remember for the exam."

Hermione always liked to go through our exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so we wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. I watched them for a moment, focusing on Fred, who was laughing. I wished there was something I could do to make things right with him again.

"No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You two could look more cheerful, Harry, Cheyenne, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Harry and I were rubbing our foreheads now.

"We wish we knew what this means!" Harry burst out angrily. "My and Chey's scars keep hurting - it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"We're not ill," I said. "We think it's a warning. . .it means danger's coming. . . ."

Ron couldn't get work up, it was too hot.

"Harry, Chey, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry and I nodded, but we couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something we'd forgotten to do, something important. When we tried to explain this, Hermione said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and got Chey up, and we were halfway through our Transfiguration notes before we remembered we'd done that one."

Harry and I were quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. We watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent us letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy. . .never. . .but -

Harry and I suddenly leapt to our feet.

"Where're you two going?" Ron said sleepily.

"We've just thought of something," Harry said. We had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" Hermione panted, hurrying to keep up with us.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," Harry started as we scrambled up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon," "And a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket?" I said, slightly out of breath as we hurried over the grass toward Hagrid's hut. "How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't we see it before?"

"What are you two talking about?" Ron said, but Harry and I, both of us sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, pleasae," Ron said, but Harry and I cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, we've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," Hagrid said casually, "he wouldn't take his cloak off."

He saw the four of us look stunned and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not that unusual, yeh got a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head - that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry slowly sank down next to the bowl of peas. I leaned against the wall of the hut to steady myself.

"What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," Hagrid said, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah. . .he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here. . . .He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after. . .so I told him. . .an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon. . .an' then. . .I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks. . . . Let's see. . .yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted. . .but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home. . . .So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy. . . ."

"And did he - did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry and I asked, trying to keep our voices calm.

"Well - yeah - how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep -"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey - where're yeh goin'?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I didn't speak to each other at all until we came to a half in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," Harry said. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak - it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

We looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing us in the right direction. We had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did we know anyone who had been sent to him.

"Well just have to -" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you four doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, rather bravely, Harry, Ron and I thought.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as thought this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Harry and I glanced at each other nervously - now what?

"It's sort of a secret," we said, but we wished at once we hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldy. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" Harry and I said frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, Power, he has many demands on his time -"

"But this is important."

"Something you two have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic?"

"Look," Harry and I said, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor - it's about the Sorcerer's Stone -"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up.

"How do you know -?" She spluttered.

"Professor, we think - we know - that Sn - that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. We've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

She eyed us with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor -"

"Potter, Power, I know what I'm talking about," She said shortly. She bent down and gather up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

We didn't.

"It's tonight," Harry said, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we -"

Hermione and I gasped. Harry and Ron whirled around.

Snape was standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

We stared at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were -" Harry began, but I knew he didn't have any idea what he was going to say.

"You want to be more careful," Snape said. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Harry flushed and I bit my lip to stop myself from saying something rude. We turned to go outside, but Snape called us back.

"Be warned, Potter. . .Power - any more nighttime wanderings and I will peronsally make sure you are both expelled. Good day to you."

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.

Out on the stone steps, Harry and I turned to the others.

"Right, here's what we've got to do," we whispered urgently. "One of us had got to keep an eye on Snape - wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."

"Why me?"

"It's obvious," Ron said. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, " 'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong. . . .' "

"Oh, shut up," Hermione said, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry and I told Ron. "Come on."

But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had we reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!"

Harry, Ron and I went back to the common room. Harry had just finished saying, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.

"I'm so sorry, Harry, Chey!" She wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry and I said.

The other two stared at us. We were pale and our eyes glittered.

"We're going out of here tonight and we're going to try and get to the Stone first."

"You're mad!" Ron said.

"You can't!" Hermione said. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll both be expelled!"

"SO WHAT?" Harry and I shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If we get caught before we can get to the Stone, well, we'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find us there, it's only dying a bit later than we would have, because we're never going over to the Dark Side! We're going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop us! Voldemort killed our parents, remember?"

We glared at them.

"You're right, Harry. . .Cheyenne. . . ." Hermione said in a small voice.

"We'll use the invisibility cloaks," Harry said. "It's just lucky we got them back."

"But will they cover all four of us?" Ron asked.

"All - all four of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you two don't think we'd let you go alone?"

"Of course not," Hermione said briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and look through my books, there might be something useful. . . .Chey, you should help me, the more we both know the better."

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," Hermione said grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam, as did Cheyenne. They might not throw us out after that."

After dinner, Hermione and I sat nervously apart from Harry and Ron in the common room. Nobody bothered us; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to either Harry nor I any more, after all. This was the first night we hadn't been upset by it. Hermione and I were skimming through all our notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments we were about to try and break. It didn't look like Harry and Ron were talking much.

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.

"Better get the cloak," Hermione whispered to me, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry and I ran upstairs to our dark dormitories. I pulled out my cloak from under my bed.

I ran back downstairs to the common room.

"We'd better split into two groups with two people under a cloak each and make sure the cloaks will hide us - if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own -"

"What are you doing?" a voice said from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," Harry said hurriedly as we put the cloaks behind our backs.

Neville stared at our guilty faces.

"You're going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," Hermione said. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"

Harry and I glanced at the grandfather cloak by the door. We couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out," Neville said. "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," I said, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.

"I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll - I'll fight you!"

"Neville," Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot -"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" Neville said. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," Ron said, exasperated. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor, who leapt out of sight.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" Neville said, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"

While Ron and I tried talking to Neville, Harry turned to Hermione.

"Do something!" I heard him say desperately.

Hermione stepped forward, glancing at me before turning to Neville. I pulled out my wand.

"Neville," Hermione said, "We're really, really sorry about this."

We raised our wands together.

"Petrificus Totalus!" We cried, pointing our wands at Neville.

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body went rigid, and Neville swayed where he stood. He fellt flat on his face, stiff as a board.

Hermione and I ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were rammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at us in horror.

"What've you two done to him?" Harry whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind," Hermione and I said miserably. "Oh, Neville, we're so sorry."

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," Harry said.

"You'll understand later, Neville," Ron said as we stepped over him and pulled on the invisibility cloaks. Harry and Ron got under his while Hermione and I got under mine.

However, leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. In our nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on us.

At the foot of the first set of stairs, we spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

Hermione and I heard Ron whisper something to Harry, but Harry did something that discouraged him and we moved on. As the four of us climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on us, but didn't do anything.

We didn't meet anyone else until we reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as we climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at us.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

I gulped, unsure what to do.

"Peeves," I heard the hoarse whisper ahead of Hermione and I, and I instantly recgonized Harry's voice, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake - I didn't see you - of course I didn't, you're invisible - forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," We heard Harry croak. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," Peeves said, rising up into the air once more. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off.

"Brilliant, Harry!" Hermione and I heard Ron whisper.

A few seconds later, we were there, outside the third-floor corridor - and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly. "Snape's already got past Fluffy.

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all four of us what was facing us. Under our cloaks, Harry and I turned to the other two.

"If you want to go back, we won't blame you," we said. "You both can take the cloaks, we won't need them now."

"Don't be stupid," Ron said.

"We're coming," Hermione whispered.

I saw Harry invisibily push the door open.

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met our ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in our direction, even though it couldn't see us.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," Ron said. "Snape must've left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," Harry said. "Well, here goes. . . ."

Hermione and I heard Harry beginning to play his flute. What he played wasn't really a tune, but from the first not the beast's eyes began to droop. I wasn't even sure if Harry drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased - it tottered on it's paws and fell to it's knees, then slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned as we threw off the cloaks and he and Hermione crept toward the trapdoor. I stayed standing back with Harry, watching them.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," Ron said, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right," Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Nothing - just black - there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Harry, still playing the flute, nudged me and jerked his head toward Ron and Hermione to tell me to get their attention. I nodded.

"We'll go!" I said, pointing to Harry and myself.

"You two want to go first? Are you sure?" Ron asked. "I don't know how deep his thing goes. Harry give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

Harry handed the flute over as I made my way carefully over to Ron. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched. The moment Hermione began to play, however, it fell back into a deep sleep.

Harry climbed over the dog and joined Ron and I at the trapdoor. We looked down into it. There wasn't a single sign of the bottom.

Taking each other's hand, Harry and I lowered ourselves through the hole until we were hanging on by our fingertips. Then we looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to us, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig or Elon to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," Ron agreed.

"Well see you in a minute. . .we hope. . . ."

Clutching each other's hands, Harry and I let go of the lip of the hole. Cold, damp air rushed past us as we fell down, down, down and -

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump we landed on something soft, losing grip on one another. I sat up and felt around myself, my eyes not used to the gloom yet. It felt as though we were sitting on some kind of plant. I could feel something curling around my leg. I yelped and quickly scrambled to my left. Sudden pain flashed through my body as I smacked into a hard, yet very damp brick wall.

"It's okay!" I heard Harry call to Ron and Hermione. I looked up. The light was now only the size of a postage stamp, which I instantly knew was the trapdoor. "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Before I could protest, Ron followed us through right away. I saw him, barely, sprawled next to Harry.

"What's this stuff?" Were the first words out of his mouth.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermione!"

"No! Hermione, dont -" I called. Too late. The distant music had already stopped. There was a loud bark from Fluffy, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Harry's other side, where I'd previously been.

"We must be miles under the school," She said.

"Hermione, get over here!" I squeaked. She looked around.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," Ron said.

"Lucky!" Hermione and I shrieked, "Look at you two!"

Hermione leapt up and struggled toward the damp wall I was against. She struggled, just like me, to get to the wall because the moment she's landed, the plant had began to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. Long creepers had already wound around Harry and Ron's legs without their notice.

Hermione and I had managed to free ourselves before the plant had gotten a firm grip on either of us. Now we watched in horror as the two boys fought to pull themselves free, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them.

"Stop moving!" Hermione and I ordered them. "We know what this is - it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we knew what it's called, that's a great help," Ron snarled, leaning back, trying to prevent the plant from curling around his neck.

"Shut up, we're trying to remember how to kill it!" Hermione said.

"Hurry up, we can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare. . .ugh, what was it Professor Sprout said? - it likes the dark and damp -"

"Light a fire!" Harry choked out.

"Of course - wait, wait, ahh, no wood!" Hermione and I cried, she wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU TWO GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed at us. "ARE YOU BOTH WITCHES OR NOT?"

"Right!" Hermione and I agreed as we whipped out our wands, waved them, muttered something, then sent a couple of jets of the same bluebell flames Hermione had used on Snape at the plant. In only a matter of seconds, the two boys looked like they'd regained some color in their cheeks as the plant unwound itself from their bodies and cringed away from the light and warmth. It wriggled and flailed away from them and the two were able to pull free.

"Lucky you both pay attention in Herbology, Hermione, Cheyenne," Harry said as he joined us by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.

"Yeah," Ron cut in, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis - 'no wood,' honestly."

"This way," Harry said, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

The only other sound apart from our footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and both Harry and I were reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, we remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If we met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon - and Norbert had been bad enough. . .

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

We stopped and listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"Don't know. . .sounds like wings, actually."

"Look, a light ahead - I think I see something moving."

We reached the end of the passageway and saw before us a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above us. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" Ron asked.

"Probably," Harry said. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once. . .well, there's no other choice. . .I'll -"

"We'll run across first," I interjected. Harry looked at me, then nodded. He gave me a soft smile. I smiled back, taking his hand.

Taking a deep breath each, we covered our faces with out free arms, and sprinted across the room. We expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at us at any second, but nothing happened. We reached the door untouched. We pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other two followed us. We tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione and I tried our Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" Ron asked.

"Hermione and I looked around at the 'birds' above us. "These 'birds'. . .they can't be here just for decoration," we said together.

All four of us watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering - wait, glittering?

"They aren't birds!" Harry and I said suddenly, realizing what they were at the same time. "They're keys! Winged keys - look carefully. Wait, then this must mean. . ." We looked quickly around the chamber whlie the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. ". . .yes - look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!"

Ron quickly examined the lock on the door.

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one - probably silver, like the handle."

We each seized a broomstick, and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. We grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker, while I was the youngest Helper in a century. We both had a knack for spotting things others could not. After a minutes's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, we noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as though it'd already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

"That one!" we called to the others. "The big one - there - no, there - with bright blue wings - the feathers are all crumpled on one side."

Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry and I pointed, and crashed into the ceiling, nearly falling off his broom in the process.

Harry and I glanced at each other, seeming to talk telepathtically before nodding together. "We've gotta close in on it!" Harry called, his gaze returning easily to the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above - Hermione, stay below and stop it from going down - Cheyenne and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry and I streaked after it, keeping on either side. The key streaked toward the wall, and Harry leaned forward, and finally, with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermione's cheered echoed around the high chamber.

We all landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key's stuggl's obvious between Harry's fingers. We saw him ram the key into the lock and turn it - it worked! The moment the lock clicked open, the key took flight once more, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice. "Ready?" Harry and I asked the others, our hands on the door handle. They nodded. We pulled the door open together.

The next chamber was so dark we couldn't see anything at all. However, as we stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

We were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than we were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing us, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I shivered slightly - the towering white chessmen had absolutely no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry and I whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron said. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces we could see another door.

"How?" Hermione asked nervously.

"I think," Ron said, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

We watched him walk up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we - er - have to join you to get across?"

The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the rest of us.

"This needs thinking about. . . ." he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of four of the black pieces. . . ."

Harry, Hermione and I stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally, he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but none of you are that good at chess -"

"We're not offended," Harry said quickly as Hermione and I nodded in agreement.

"Just tell us what to do." I said.

"Well, Harry, Cheyenne, you two take the place of both bishops, and Hermione, you go next to Harry instead of that castle."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," Ron answered.

The chessmen seemed to be listening, because at Ron's words a knight, both bishops, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving four empty spaces that Harry, Ron, Hermione and I took.

"White always plays first in chess," Ron said, peering across the board. "Yes. . . look. . ."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron began to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. I could feel my whole body shaking as I looked at Harry as he glanced at me. What if we lost?

"Harry - move diagonally four squares to the right."

Our first real shock came when our other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.

"Had to let that happen," Ron said, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of our men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon, there was a huddle of limp black pieces slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry, Hermione or I were in danger. He, himself, darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as we had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think - let me think. . ."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

"Yes. . ." Ron said softly. "it's the only way. . .I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Harry and Hermione said. My hair prickled and I felt my heart almost stop.

"That's chess!" Ron snapped. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me - that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But -!"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron -"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed and I cringed but we stayed on our squares - the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, I watched Harry move three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. We had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look at Ron Harry, Hermione and I charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's -?"

"He'll be all right," Harry and I said, trying to convince ourselves. "What do you reckon's next?"

"The Devil's Snate was Sprout's; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive. . ." Hermione said.

"That leaves Quirrell's spell and Snape's. . ." I said.

We had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry and I whispered.

"Go on."

Harry pushed the door open.

A disgusting smell hit our noses, making all three of us pull our robes up over our noses. Eyes watering, we saw, flat on the floor in front of us, a troll even larger than the one we had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"Glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry and I whispered together as we stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."

Harry pulled open the next door, none of us hardly daring to look at what came next- however, there wasn't anything frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," Harry said. "What do we have to do?"

We stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind us in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. We were trapped.

"Look!" Hermione and I seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry looked over our shoulders to read it:

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will teleport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however, slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wines left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither if your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at

first sight.

Hermione and I let out a great sigh each and Harry, with an amazed look on his face, saw that we were both smiling, something I knew was the last thing he felt like doing.

"Brilliant," We said. "This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck here forever."

"B-but so will we, won't we?"

"Of course not," Hermione said as I shook my head. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles:"

"Three are poison;" I interjected as Hermione nodded.

"Two are wine;" She continued.

"One will get us safely through the black fire," I pointed to the door ahead.

"And one will get us back through the purple," She pointed behind us.

"But how do we know which to drink?" Harry asked.

"Give us a minute."

Hermione and I read the paper several times. Then we walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to ourselves and one another as we pointed at them. At last, Hermione clapped her hands.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire - toward the Stone,"

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for two of us," he said. "There's hardly even two swallows."

We looked at each other.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

I pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," Harry said to Hermione, "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy - go straight to the owlery and send either Hedwig or Elon to Dumbledore, we need him. Cheyenne and I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but. . ." Harry looked at me and we gave each other weak smiles, ". . .even together we're no match for him, really."

"But Harry. . .Cheyenne - what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well - we were lucky once, weren't we?" Harry and I said together, pointing at our scars. "We might get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at us and threw her arms around us.

"Hermione!"

"Harry. . .Cheyenne - you're both great wizards, you know."

"We're not as good as you," We said, both of us really embarrassed, as she released us.

"Me!" Hermione said. "Books and cleverness! There are more important things - friendship, loyalty and bravery and - oh Harry, Cheyenne - be careful!"

"You drink first," Harry said. "You both are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," Hermione and I said. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" Harry asked anxiously.

"No - but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck, you two - take care -"

"GO!"

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

Harry turned to me as I picked up the smallest bottle and opened it, "Ready?" I asked him. He nodded, taking a deep breath. I took a sip, then handed it to him, shuddering to myself. We turned to face the black flames after Harry put the bottle back down.

It did feel as though ice was flooding our bodies. Taking each other's hands, we walked forward, bracing ourselves, saw the black flames licking our bodies, but couldn't feel them - for a moment neither Harry nor I saw anything but black fire - then we were on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there - but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.


	17. The Man with Two Faces

**Chapter Seventeen**

**The Man with Two Faces**

It was Quirrell

"You!" Harry and I gasped.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," He said quite calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you both here, Powter."

"But we thought - Snape -"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering tremble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an over-grown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Neither Harry nor I could take it in. This couldn't be true, it honestly couldn't.

"But Snape tried to kill us!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you both. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you both. I'd have taken Potter out first if you hadn't made contact with him, Power, and switched my focus. I'd have managed taking you both out sooner if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to save us?"

"Of course," Quirrell said coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really. . .he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular. . .and what a waste of time, when after all, I'm going to kill you both tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry and I.

"You're both too nosy live, Powter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?"

"Certainly. I have a special girl with trolls - you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunatly, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off - and not only did my troll fail to beat you both to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly."

"Now, wait quietly, Powter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry and I realized what was standing behind Quirrel. It was the Mirror of Erised!

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this. . .but he's in London. . .I'll be far away by the time he gets back. . . ."

Harry and I glanced at each other. At the moment, all we could think of doing was keeping Quirrell talking and prevent him from concentrating on the mirror.

"We saw you and Snape in the forest -" Harry blurted out.

"Yes," Quirrell said idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side. . . ."

Quirrell stepped out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone. . .I'm presenting it to my master. . .but where is it?"

I wiggled around in my rope binding, hoping to break free, but they didn't give. We had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"But Snape always seemed to hate us so much," I said.

"Oh, he does," Quirrell casually said, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your fathers, didn't either of you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted one of you dead."

"But we heard you a few days ago, sobing - we though Snape was threatening you. . . ."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said. "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions - he is a great wizard and I am still weak."

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry and I gasped together.

"He is with me wherever I go." Quirrell said quietly. "I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it. . . .Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He had had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me. . .decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me. . . ."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry and I were remembering our trip to Diagon Alley- how could we have been so stupid? We'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

"I don't understand. . .is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

My mind was racing.

I knew I had to find the Stone before Quirrell. Both Harry and I had to or we were all in trouble. I glanced at Harry, seeing he was thinking as deeply as I was about this. If only one of us could look in the mirror and maybe we'd be able to see where the Stone was hidden. We just had to figure out how to look in the mirror without Quirrell realizing what we were up to.

I saw Harry trying to edge to the left, trying to get in front of the glass without Quirrell's notice, but the ropes binding his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell continued to ignore us. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

To my and Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use them. . .use them. . ."

Quirrell rounded on us.

"Yes - Potter. . .Power - come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding us fell off. I hurried over to Harry's side and helped him to his feet.

"Come over here, lovebirds," Quirrell snapped, watching us. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry and I walked over to him.

(We have to lie,) I thought frantically. (We've got to look in the mirror and lie about what we see, that's all.)

Quirrell moved in close behind us. We breathed in the funny smell that seemed to emenate from Quirrell's turban. Closing our eyes, we stepped in front of the mirror, then opened them again.

We saw our reflections, both pale and scared-looking at first. A moment passd before our reflections smiled at us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Harry's reflection point to mine as it reached into it's pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked at us and put the Stone back in its pocket - as it did so, I felt a slight weight drop into my pocket. My fingers touched the material of my pants, feeling the hair on the back of my neck prickle with excitment. Somehow - amazingly - I'd gotten the Stone!

"Well?" Quirrell asked impatiently. "What do you both see?"

Harry and I glanced at each other with just our eyes. We quickly screwed up our courage.

"We see ourselves shaking hands with Dumbledore," Harry inventered. "We - We've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said angrily. We quickly moved aside and I felt the Sorcerer's Stone bump my leg when I moved. Harry grabbed my hand tightly and I glanced at him, seeing the protective gleam in his eyes. Dare we make a break for it?

But we hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"They lie. . .They lie. . ."

"Powter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted after us. "Tell us the truth! What did you two just see?'

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to them. . .face-to-face. . . ."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough. . .for this. . . ."

Harry and I felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting us to the spot. Neither of us could move a muscle. Petrified, we watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then, as though in slow motion, he turned on the spot.

We would have screamed, but neither of us could make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face either of us had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like that of a snake.

"Harry Potter. . .Cheyenne Power. . ." it whispered.

I took a shaky step backward. I tugged on Harry's arm, trying to bring him with me, but he wouldn't move.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor. . .I have form only when I can share another's body. . .but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. . . .Unicorn blood has strengthed me, these past weeks. . .you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest. . .and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. . . .Now. . .Power, why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

He knew! Harry stumbled backward as I tugged him back again. My hand clutched his arm tightly and he put his hand over mine. He shifted some so was sheilding me from Voldemort.

"Don't be fools," it snarled. "Better save your own lifes and join me. . .or you'll both meet the same end as your parents. . . .They all died begging me for mercy. . . ."

"LIAR!" Harry and I shouted back.

Quirrell was walking backward toward us, so that Voldemort could still see us. The evil face was now smilng.

"How touching. . ." it - he - that thing hissed. "I always value bravery. . . .Yes, you two, all your parents were brave. . . .I killed your fathers first, and they put up a courageous fight, worked together nicely. . .but your mothers needn't have died. . .they were trying to protect you both. . . .Now give me the Stone, unless you want them to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

We sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed, "SEIZE THEM! SEIZE _HER_!" and the next second I felt my arm ripped backward by Harry, who'd been grabbed by the wrist by Quirrell and yanked backward roughly. I recoiled immediantly, feeling my foot twist painfully to the side as my feet slipped on the stairs. Pain flashed through my body as I fell, hard, onto the cold stone floor and gritted my teeth to stop myself from crying out in pain. Before I could react, Quirrell was pinning me down, his hands around my neck, slowly cutting off my windpipe. Panic rose in me as I gasped for air, putting my hands over his and trying to pry them off my neck. My scar exploded with pain and my eyes rolled back in my head as the pain built in me, feeling like both my lungs were going to explode with pain and my head was going to split in two.

"No, Chey! Get off of her!" Harry's voice howled from somewhere nearby and Quirrell's weight disappeared. I gasped as air rushed in to fill my lungs and the pain slowly ebed away. I coughed and rolled onto my side, trying to regain my breath, "Chey, are you all right?" Gentle hands gripped my shoulders and helped me to sit up and I lifted my hazel eyes to Harry's swimming, bright green irises. I nodded, rubbing at my throat, "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just a little, dizzy from lack of breath. . ." I said softly.

"Seize her! SEIZE HER!" Voldemort's shrieks drowned out Harry's next words and Quirrell lunged at us. earry pushed me out of the way and Quirrell landed on him. He pinned Harry to the floor, his hands wrapping around my best friends neck. I watched in horror, feeling like I was watching what had been happening to me just minutes ago and feeling helpless to stop it. Anger replaced my helpless feeling and I propelled myself forward while Quirrell was preoccupied with his raw, red, shiny and burned hands.

"Then kill them, fool, and be done!" Voldemort screeched.

I saw Quirrell raise his hand to perform a deadly curse. I lunged and wrapped my right arm around his neck, yanking back as hard as I could as I scored the nails of my left hand across Voldemort's flesh. Pain exploded through my scar, nearly blinding me as I tried to hang on. I felt Harry grab Quirrell's face.

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off Harry and onto me, knocking the wind from my lungs again. Loosening my hold, Quirrell pulled free and crawled several feet away, crying out in angoy. Panting, I lay there, sitting up once more with Harry's help. Quirrell's skin blistered across his face and Voldemort's skin began to blister where I touched as well. Realization dawned on us at the same time: Quirrell couldn't touch either my nor Harry's bare skin without suffering terrible pain. Our only chance would be to keep a hold on Quirrell to prevent him from performing a curse and getting the Stone. Nodding to each other, we lunged again. I resecured my arm around Quirrell's neck, tightening it so I cut off his windpipe as Harry grabbed his arm. Pain once again exploded through my scar and I gritted my teeth. Quirrell managed a scream and tried to throw us off - the pain built - my vision disappeared - my ears were only filled with Quirrell's horrible screams and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL THEM! KILL THEM!" Other voices pounded at my ear drums, perhaps only voices in my head, crying, "Harry! Cheyenne! HARRY! CHEYENNE!"

Suddenly, I felt someone grab my arm and wretch it from around Quirrell's neck as he disappeared. Darkness eveloped me and at that moment, I knew all was lost. . .

A bright white light was the next thing I saw. I thought then that perhaps Quirrell had succeeded in killing Harry and I. The thought of Harry immediately jolted at my mind and I tried to look around to find him, but my whole body felt too heavy.

I groaned, my eyes fluttering open. I was staring at glaring lights.

"Harry?" I whispered, sitting up some and propping myself up with my elbows. I blinked to clear my vision and looked around. Albus Dumbledore was smiling at me and Harry was lying in the bed next to mind, looking very disorainted, but alive. I bolted upright, but I was too quick and my head swam. I slowly lowered myself back onto the bed, cradling my head.

"Good afternoon, Harry and Cheyenne," Dumbledore said.

I looked at him, then, everything came rushing back: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick -" Harry and I blurted out.

"Calm yourselves, you two, you're both a little behind the times," Dumbledore said gently. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, we -"

"Harry, Cheyenne, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

I took a deep breath and looked around myself. We must be in the hospital wing. The bed I was lying in had white linen sheets. Between my and Harry's bed was a table piled high with what looked like the whole candy shop.

"Tokens from both your friends and admirers," Dumbledore said, beaming, "What happened down in the dungeons between you two and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you both a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have we been in here?" Harry asked as I smiled at the thought of Fred and George.

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you've both come round, they've been extremely worried."

"But, sir, the Stone -"

"I see neither of you is to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were both doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must've crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you both -"

"It was you."

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were, we couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer -"

"Not the Stone, you two - the effort involved nearly killed you both. For one terribile moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Harry and I said blankly. "But your friend - Nicolas Flamel -"

"Oh, you both know about Nicolas?" Dumbledore asked, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properlu, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

I blinked, "Like. . .dying without regret?"

Dumbledore nodded, then smiled at the look of amazement on our faces.

"To ones as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenella, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all - the trouble is, humans do have a knack for choosing recisely those things that are worst for them."

Harry and I glanced at each other, unsure what to say. I got carefully out of bed and sat down next to Harry as Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" Harry and I said together, looking at him. "We've been thinking. . .Sir - even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, er, um, we mean, You-Know-Who -"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry, Cheyenne. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? Well, we mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harry, Cheyenne, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share. . .not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, Cheyenne, while you both may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seemed a losing battle next time - and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

We nodded, but only once, because it made our heads hurt. Then, Harry looked at me before saying, "Sir, there are some other things we'd like to know, if you can tell us. . .things we want to know the truth about. . . ."

"The truth," Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer both your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll both forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well. . .Voldemort said that he only killed our mothers because they tried to stop him from killing us. But why would he want to kill us in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You'll both know, one day. . .put it from your minds for now, Harry, Cheyenne. When you're both older. . .I know you both hate to hear this. . .when you are ready, you will know."

Harry and I knew it would do no good to argue.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch us?"

"Your mothers both died to save you two. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mothers' for you two leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sigh. . .to have been loved so deeply, even though the people who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in both your skins. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch either of you for this reason. It was agony to touch people marked by something so good."

Dumbledore suddenly became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill. I wiped some tears from my eyes and helped Harry do the same. Harry soon found his voice again, "And the invisibility cloaks - do you know who send them to us?"

"Ah - your fathers happened to leave those in my possession, and I thought you both might like them." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things. . .your fathers used them mainly for sneaking off to the kitchen's to steal food when they were here."

"And there's something else. . ." I managed to speak this time.

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape -"

"Professor Snape, Harry, Cheyenne."

"Yes, him - Quirrell told us he hates us because he hated our fathers. Is that true?"

"Well, James and Mark did rather detest Professor Snape, as he did them. Not unlike yourselves and Mr. Malfoy. But then, your fathers did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"They saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes. . ." Dumbledore said dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear to be in your fathers' debt. . . .I do believe he worked so hard to protect you two this year because he felt that would make him and your fathers even. Then he could go back to hating your fathers' memory in peace. . . ."

Harry and I looked at each other, trying to understand all this but it made our heads pound so we stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing. . ."

"Just the one?"

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?" Harry asked. I looked at our headmaster curiously.

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you two and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone - find it, but not use it - would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me something. . . .Now, enough questions. I suggest you both make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Ever Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then, I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them - but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the gold-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict.

"Just five minutes," Harry and I pleaded.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in. . . ."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You both need rest."

"We are resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey. . ."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let Ron and Hermione in.

"Harry! Cheyenne!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around us again, but Harry and I were glad she held herself back as our heads were still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, Cheyenne, we were sure you were going to - Dumbledore was so worried."

"The whole school's talking about it," Ron said. "What really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story was even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry and I told them, in turn, about everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry and I told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" Ron asked finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what we said, but Dumbledore thinks that - what was it? - 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.' "

"I always said he was off his rocker," Ron said, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you two?" Harry and I asked.

"Well, I got back all right," Hermione said. "I brought Ron round - that took a while- and we were drashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall - he already knew - he just said, 'Harry and Cheyenne've gone after him, haven't they?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant for you two to do it?" Ron said. "Sending you your fathers' cloaks and everything?"

"Well," Hermione exploded, "if he did - I mean to say - that's terrible - you both could have died."

"No, it isn't," Harry and I said thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give us a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know, I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let us find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought we had the right to face Voldemort if we could. . . ."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," Ron said proudly. "Listen, you've both got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course - you both missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrolled by Ravenclaw without either of you - but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she said firmly.

After a good night's rest, Harry and I felt nearly back to normal.

"We want to go to the feast," We told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened our many candy boxes. "We can, can't we?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you two are allowed to go," She said sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. "And you both have another visitor."

"Oh, good," We said together. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as we spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down in between my and Harry's beds, took one look at both of us, and burst into tears.

"It's - all - my - ruddy - fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. I crawled over to him and reassuringly rubbed his back. "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh both could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" Harry and I said, both of us just completely shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh both could've died!" Hagrid sobbed. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" We bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying instantly, "We met him and we're calling him by his name. Please, cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, we've got loads. . . ."

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh both a present."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" Harry asked in an anxious tone as I grimaced. At last, Hagrid gave a weak chuckle.

"Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead - anyway, got yeh this. . .Cheyenne move over here so you can see it too," he said, patting Harry's bed.

Once I was settled on the sheets, Hagrid pulled out what seemed to be a rather handsome leather-covered book. Sitting side by side, Harry and I propped the book between us and opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at us from every page was our mothers and fathers."

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos. . .knew neither of yeh had any. . .d'yeh both like it?"

Neither Harry nor I could speak, but Hagrid seemed to understand.

Harry and I made our way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. We'd been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving both of us one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Harry and I walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everyone started talking loudly at once. We slipped into a couple of seats between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at us.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moment lates. The babble slowly died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into out delicious feast. What a year is had been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. . .you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . ."

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with two hundred and sixty-two points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry and I could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a very sickening sight.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore said. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went really still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes. . ."

"First - to Mr. Ronald Weasley. . ."

Ron turned purple in the face, which made him look like a radish with a bad sunburn.

". . .for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother. Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

Finally, silence fell once more.

"Second - to Miss Hermione Granger. . .for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms as I hugged her happily. I could feel her shoulders shaking as she cried in happiness. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves - we were a hundred poitns up!

"Third - to Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Cheyenne Power. . ." Dumbledore continued. A pin could be heard hitting the floor it was that silent. ". . .for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house one hundred and ten points."

The cheers were deafening. Those who could add and yell themselve hoarse all at the same time knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points - exactly the same as Slytherin. We had tied for the house cup - if only Dumbledore had given one of us maybe just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The hall slowly grew silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," Dumbledore said, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore away ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Anyone standing outside the Great Hall might as well think some kinda bomb had gone off, the cheering was so loud, most of the noise erupting from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I stood up to yell and cheer, as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. As Harry and I pulled apart from a hug, we pointed Malfoy out to Ron and Hermione. The blond haired boy couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified then if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore managed to call over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating Slytherin's downfall, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion replaced it. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught my and Harry's eyes and we both knew at once that Snape's feelings toward us hadn't changed one jot. This worried neither of us. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

It was the best evening of our lifes, better then winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls. . .we would never, ever forget tonight.

Harry and I had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. Surprisingly, Harry and Ron, at least to themselves, passed with good marks; Hermione and I, naturally had some of the best grades of the first years. Even Neville managed to scrape through, his good Herbology marks making up for his abysmal Potions ones. We had all hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

Suddenly, our wardrobes were empty, our trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning us not to use magic over the hoildays. ("I always hope they'll forget to give us theses," Fred Weasley said sadly.); Hagrid was there to take us down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; we were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as we sped past Muggle towns; pulling off our wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

It took a while for us all to get off the platform. An old wizard guard was by the ticket barrier, letting us go through the gate in twos and threes so we didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," Ron said, "All three of you - I'll send you all an owl."

"Thanks," Harry and I said, "We'll need something to look forward to."

People jostled us as we moved toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"By, Harry, Cheyenne!"

"See you, Potter, Power!"

"See you soon, Harry. . .Cheyenne!" Fred called as he walked past with George and Lee Jordan. He winked at me as he went past and I blushed.

"Still famous," Ron said, grinning at us.

"Not where we're going. We promise you," Harry said.

We spilt into two groups, Harry and Ron went through first, followed closely by Hermione and I.

"There they are, Mom, there they are, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see -"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at us.

"Busy year?" she asked.

"Very," Harry and I said. "Thanks for the fudge and sweaters, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dears."

"Ready are you two?"

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry and I, carrying a couple of owls in some cages in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of us.

"You must be Harry and Cheyenne's family!" Mrs. Weasley said.

"In a manner of speaking," Uncle Vernon mumbled. "Hurry up, you two, we haven't got all day." he walked off.

Harry and I hung back for a last minute word with Ron and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," Hermione said, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, we will," Harry and I said, seeing the other two looking surprised at the grins spreading over our faces. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. We're going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer. . . ."


End file.
